


"Planetfall"

by juli17ptf, Voyager_Virtual Season_7-5_Staff_Writers (jamelia116)



Series: Voyager Virtual Season 7.5 [42]
Category: Star Trek: The Next Generation, Star Trek: Voyager
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon-Typical Violence, Delta Quadrant, F/M, Minor Violence, Threats of Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-24
Updated: 2019-11-24
Packaged: 2021-02-26 07:21:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 26,524
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21549814
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/juli17ptf/pseuds/juli17ptf, https://archiveofourown.org/users/jamelia116/pseuds/Voyager_Virtual%20Season_7-5_Staff_Writers
Summary: They've finally arrived! The Federation colonists and their Keyannin passenger Distor Stann onPioneerdisembark and begin to build the New Earth colony. Unfortunately, no one ever anticipated interference from Romulan "observers."Warning Note:While the violent acts in this episode are not so severe as to warrant a warning label of "Graphic Violence," the reader should be aware that it depicts one character handling another quite roughly, as well as a hostage situation.  These scenes could be disturbing to vulnerable individuals.
Relationships: Ayala (Star Trek)/Original Character(s), Chakotay/Kathryn Janeway, Tal Celes/Angelo Tessoni, Tom Paris/B'Elanna Torres
Series: Voyager Virtual Season 7.5 [42]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1385569
Comments: 9
Kudos: 20





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> We must append the all-mighty general disclaimer to this episode: our writers do not claim ownership of the Star Trek characters, ships, and technology depicted in this story. Paramount/CBS/Viacom own all of that. We're just borrowing them because otherwise, our original characters would have a hard time engaging in this science fictional adventure.

**VOYAGER VIRTUAL SEASON 7.5 - episode 42**  
****  
  
**Planetfall** ****  
  
**by Julie**

****  
  
  
Prologue:  
  
Stardate 57889.6 Datastream queue, personal letter n43.  
From: Lieutenant Commander Michael Ayala, USS _Pioneer_  
To: Lieutenant Ro Laren, Deep Space Nine  
Routing: DQ Sec837--AQ Sec411 Rn554681.6Bj  
  
Text: _Dear Laren,_  
  
_It's great to hear from you! Your letter didn't reach us on New Earth, as you hoped, but right now I am looking at the planet from the viewport in my quarters. I have a few minutes before I go on duty, so I'm sipping my raktajino and enjoying the view. We're in geosynchronous orbit over the northern hemisphere. I can see parts of the two largest continents, and several sizable islands. The seas are a brilliant turquoise blue, the land masses are shaded from amber to deep green, except at the north pole where there are ice-capped mountains, and there are lots of white clouds in billowed formations across the equatorial area. The primary star is disappearing to the east, and the night shadow is starting to crawl in from the west, fronted by a rosy band of twilight. In a word, it's beautiful._  
  
_Okay, it does sound pretty much like your average M2 planet--lots of water and green vegetation. But it's still beautiful. We've been here for several days now, looking down at our new home, so near, yet at the moment, it's off limits to all but the survey teams. We're still waiting on word from Captain Janeway that the treaty has been signed and we have official sanction to colonize._  
  
_I can see you rolling your eyes right now! Yep, that's Starfleet and its unending regulations, crossing their t's and dotting their i's, as the old saying goes on Earth. I know you remember it all too well. At least I did have a chance to go down with a team to secure the colony site. We'll be settling on the smaller of the two northern continents. The Ocampa will have most of it for their resettlement, and we'll be on a wide peninsula at the southwestern tip, near the shore of the planet's largest ocean. The area is rather like the Keslet province on Bajor, or the lands around the Mediterranean Sea on Earth--hilly and dry, with very mild weather variations. It should be very pleasant. And it won't be a moment too soon._  
  
_Most of the colonists aren't accustomed to living in the confined space of a starship, but they've been relatively sanguine about it during the journey. That's probably because many of them are refugees who experienced far worse during the Dominion War than the relatively minor discomforts of cramped quarters. But now that we're here, the cabin fever has intensified. Tempers are starting to fray a bit. So far there haven't been any major conflicts (I won't bore you with the minor ones), but I'll be glad when the tension of waiting is over._  
  
_Luis, Raul and Lajen actually adjusted very well to shipboard life (with the amazing adaptability of youth!), but I know they are eager to get down to the planet too. All that room to roam, and no imminent threats to occupy their minds. After the Dominion War, this planet seems like a peaceful paradise to them. You and I both know there are always threats, but I'll be more than happy to keep up the pretense for them as long as I can._  
  
_Raul and Lajen have both made several friends, and they're doing well in their classes. Raul has been spending more and more time in the animal bays, making himself useful rather than a nuisance, I hope. At least Mahara Tibuku, the head of the colony's animal husbandry director, says he's been useful. He helps exercise the dogs in the holographic meadow, and he can't wait to run them on real grass. Mostly he can't wait to get down to the surface so he can have Dobby with him all the time. That's the name he's given the black Lab puppy Kajee and I agreed he could have._  
  
_Luis is doing well also, though he still tends to keep to himself. He does enjoy his classes, and he is getting more sociable, when Raul needles him enough. Kajee thinks their opposite personalities are less a result of their environments than their natural dispositions. I'm not sure that's true, though I want to believe it. It gives me hope that Luis's experiences won't shadow his whole life. At least the dreams that used to disturb his sleep aren't as frequent, which is a good sign. He has me now, and he takes being a big brother to both Raul and Lajen very seriously. Raul especially has done wonders for him. And, of course, Kajee's done wonders for all of us._  
  
_But you know that, don't you? I never thanked you properly for giving me the push I needed. I was worried Kajee would regret her decision to come, but I think she's as happy as I am, even though I know she's going a little stir-crazy too. The boys and Lajen seem very satisfied with our family unit, which is what we are now. I think we're all going to enjoy settling here for a while, and starting a new life together. It may end up being more than the eighteen months I told you. But it won't be forever, I promise you that. We'll be back someday, and you'll barely recognize us, we'll be so boringly normal!_  
  
_Meanwhile, how are things on Deep Space Nine,_ really _? I suspect you paint the situation cheerier than it actually is. There must be a little more tension over Bajor's admission to the Federation than you're letting on. And why did I sense I was missing something between the lines in that final paragraph of your last letter? Yes, Quark is truly a character, but is it only my imagination that you sound like you're getting genuinely fond of the shyster? I'd say don't trust him as far as you can kick him, but I know you can take care of yourself. As for the other--just a second, Laren--_  
  
_Sorry, I cut that last sentence off abruptly, but I've just been called to the briefing room by Captain Merves. It seems Captain Janeway has finally given the word. The treaty is a done deal, and we can start beaming down the colonists. I've got to cut this short, but I'll write you again once we're on the surface. I'll let you know how it's going for us. Kajee sends her greetings, and you can tell her sister to expect a letter soon. Take care, and give our love to all._  
  


_Yours,_  
Michael.  
  



	2. Act One (Day One)

  
**Act One (Day One)  
  
 _USS Pioneer--November 21, 2381, Stardate 57889.7_ **  
  
Commander Michael Ayala slipped into the only vacant chair in the briefing room. He was the last to arrive, though he'd come straight from his quarters, pausing just long enough to pull on his uniform jacket. He'd wanted to call Kajee, but he knew she had already started morning classes. She'd hear soon enough anyway.  
  
"The virus is no longer an issue, but what about the insects?" Captain Merves was asking Doctor T'Pren. "Several of the survey teams reported that the bites were causing severe itching."  
  
"I've treated the bites with an ointment that contains an analgesic to relieve the itching, as well as an antibiotic to prevent infection. I have also formulated a repellent for the colony's medical team to distribute. It should prevent further occurrences."  
  
"Thank you, Doctor." Captain Merves looked at his assembled senior staff. "Are there any further matters that need immediate attention?"  
  
"We've been preparing for days," Lieutenant Harriman murmured, loud enough for only Ayala to hear, though Doctor T'Pren arched an eyebrow from across the table.  
  
"We're ready, Captain," Commander Bryna Rees said.  
  
Merves nodded approvingly at his first officer. "Excellent. Notify the first landing parties that we're starting the beam down procedures. Tell them to be ready and at their assigned transporter in one hour."  
  
"Yes, sir. Given the, er, regrettable absence of Ambassador Diaza, shall I notify Administrator Glera in his place?"  
  
Merves's mouth quirked at Rees's rueful tone. Ambassador Diaza had not endeared himself to any of the crew, least of all the captain. If Diaza were here right now, Ayala was certain, he would be imperiously ordering everyone about and doing everything he could to control the entire process.  
  
"I suppose you must," Merves replied to Rees. He took in his officers with a sweeping glance. "I think we all know our duties. You may each report--"  
  
The door to the briefing room slid open, and Merves stopped in mid-sentence at the unexpected interruption. An ensign from Tactical entered the room, PADD in hand. "This just came in for you, sir. Priority from Starfleet Command."  
  
Merves took the PADD and began reading as the ensign exited rather quickly, having performed her duty. At the thunderous expression that settled on the captain's face, Ayala wondered if the ensign had another reason for departing post-haste.  
  
"What is it, sir?" Commander Rees asked.  
  
Merves set the PADD down hard, and it clattered as he spoke. "The Romulan observers are to be assigned office space adjacent to the new Federation Embassy."  
  
Several mouths dropped open. "They're staying on New Earth?" Chief Helm Officer Lieutenant Inaxa asked, her tone incredulous.  
  
Chief Engineer Valinsky, his face glowering in the best of times, glowered even more. "This is Prolak's doing!"  
  
"Perhaps," Merves said, while Ayala considered silently that it was more likely part of the original plan of the Romulan Senate. "Not that it matters. And they are not staying, Lieutenant. They are establishing an embassy post, in the interest of equal representation for the Romulan government within the Delta quadrant. Once Prolak returns they'll be leaving in their runabout."  
  
"And just who is going to staff their embassy?" Harriman asked.  
  
The captain shrugged. "Perhaps the Romulan government plans on sending an actual ambassador at a later date. In the meantime, this will be the headache of the embassy staff, for the most part, which is one more subject for you to discuss with Administrator Glera, Bryna."  
  
The first officer rolled her eyes but offered no further comment.  
  
"Right now we all have other matters to attend to," the captain said. "Commander Ayala and Lieutenant Harriman, please remain here for a moment. The rest of you are dismissed."  
  
Merves waited for the officers to file out of the room before he spoke again. "Michael, since you will be head of security for the embassy and colony, I'm leaving it to you to keep an eye on the Romulans. I don't expect them to cause any trouble."  
  
Ayala understood the captain's implication--it was up to him to make sure that was the case. He nodded as Merves continued, "Harri, I assume you are prepared to take over here as Security Chief, and that the beam down process will be orderly and efficient."  
  
"Yes, sir," Harri replied. "Security will be stationed at the cargo transporters and at the turbolift entries on the Bay decks. I can't promise it will be quick, but it will be orderly."  
  
"Fair enough. Michael, your people are set to accompany each beam down party?"  
  
Michael nodded. One of the thirteen security officers who now compromised his colony security team would accompany each party. He expected no trouble, but with over a hundred colonists beaming down at a time, it was a better to have a presence to deal immediately with any potential conflicts.  
  
"Very good. I'll expect the regular update from each of you at sixteen hundred hours." The captain frowned at the PADD in front of him before picking it up again. "Dismissed."  
  
"Looks like you're going to have the easier job for the time being," Ayala said to Harriman as they exited the briefing room together. "I think I envy you, Harri."  
  
"No you don't." Harri--Lieutenant Helen Harriman--smiled. That smile lit up her angular face. "You can't wait to get down there and settle in with Kajee and the kids. It's very obvious you're a family man first and a Starfleet officer second, Michael."  
  
Ayala couldn't deny that. It was common knowledge that he wouldn't have rejoined without his family along.  
  
 _His_ family. Ayala liked the sound of that.  
  
Harri nudged his shoulder. "Hey, you can wipe that smug smile off your face. There's no need to rub it in."  
  
"Sorry," Ayala said, though he really wasn't. He also saw the gleam of humor in Harri's gray eyes. "As if you have any interest in anything but Starfleet."  
  
"You're right," Harri agreed as she stepped into the turbolift. "Starfleet is in my blood, I guess."  
  
Ayala knew she was speaking literally. Helen Harriman was a blue-blood when it came to Starfleet, a status informally conferred on families like the Noguras, Harrimans, Sulus, and Parises, who'd had a presence in the fleet for a century, or two, or three. One of her great, great grandfathers--or something like that-- had even commanded _Enterprise_ , the long-standing flagship of the fleet.  
  
"Maybe one day I'll think about having a family," Harri mused. "But for now, I'm perfectly content playing the field."  
  
Ayala grinned just as his combadge beeped. Before he could react a high-pitched voice filtered through. " _Dad, we got called out of class! We get to go to New Earth now! Where are you?"_  
  
"I'm on my way, Raul."  
  
 _"Kajee's packing our stuff. We might have to leave without you!"  
  
_ Raul sounded more excited than worried about that possibility. "I think we have a few minutes to spare," Ayala replied dryly. "You and Luis help Kajee."  
  
 _"We will! Hurry, Dad!"  
  
_ "Sounds like you're holding up the party," Harri said, grinning.  
  
Ayala grinned back. There was no party without him, since he was head of colony security. His family benefited by being among the first to beam down. "Raul's a little anxious to get down there. I must admit, so am I," he added as the turbolift stopped.  
  
"No!" Harri said with mock astonishment. She smirked at him. "You have fun out there on the north forty. Watch out for those runaway tractors."  
  
"Ha ha," Ayala said as he stepped out of the turbolift. "I'll invite you to our first barn dance."  
  
"I can't wait," Harri rejoined as the doors started to close. "I'll wear my best gingham dress for the occasion!"  
  
Ayala chuckled. That stereotype of the Federation's many millions of colonists was a source of good-natured humor in Starfleet, even though the majority of colonies weren't primarily agricultural. He was certainly no farmer, but he'd been a colonist before, and now he would be one once again.  
  
He smiled wryly as a thought struck him, then nodded to a passing officer from Sciences. He supposed that in one sense, his life had now come full circle.  
  
*  
  
Distor Stann, recently of Keaynn, and now the last of his race, walked down a busy corridor on _Pioneer_. Those passing him looked preoccupied as they hurried to and fro, completing their final tasks before they beamed down to their new home. The frenetic atmosphere right now reminded him of the tri-tower buildings in the capital city on Keaynn, where the administrators and brokers like his father had rushed about, conducting the urgent business of their busy world. To him, such lively bustle had always been the evidence of productive existence, the music of life. But now it reminded him that was no more for the Keaynnin.  
  
A sharp pang stabbed at Stann's heart, intensifying the ache of loss that was always present, except when he first awakened from slumber. For a few moments, all seemed as it had been--before he remembered the harsh truth. His next inward breath would sear him. Each day, the loss was brand new.  
  
And every day, with every new thing he saw, every new story he heard, he thought of his people, and what they would have made of it all. The priests and elders had concluded that the Keaynnin were the lone sentient beings in the galaxy. The best knowledge and data supported that conclusion. Yet Stann had occasionally looked at the stars and wondered what it would be like if, against all odds, there _were_ others out there; if some of those pinpoints of light had planets like Keaynn circling them, with sentient beings living on them, perhaps even sending flying ships like his own _Seeker Ten_ out to the stars.  
  
In all his imaginings, Stann could never in a million teracorcals have imagined _this_. He wondered again how the elders and priests would have greeted the fact that the galaxy was filled with sentient beings, both benevolent and hostile. Some would celebrate, while others would probably greet the news more cautiously.  
  
He would never know. He could only speculate now what they would have thought, and how his own parents and siblings would have reacted, because they were all gone forever.  
  
"Hello, Stann. Will you be beaming down today?"  
  
Melia Gend, a Betazoid who was part of a close group of several extended families, matched his faltering step and smiled at him. Stann had found the Betazoids perhaps the warmest of all the people he'd met here, genuinely welcoming and deeply concerned about his welfare.  
  
"I am in the last group," he told her. That had been his request. "I beam down tomorrow morning."  
  
"Our offer still stands, you know. I hope you will join us."  
  
"Thank you. I have been honored by your offer, as well as many others. Everyone here is very kind."  
  
Melia's brown eyes warmed with that strangely palpable sympathy he'd felt from the Betazoids. It was not pity but a deep understanding, as if they had experienced a similar loss. Indeed, he knew Melia had lost both family and friends during the war from which most of those on _Pioneer_ were still recovering.  
  
"The offers are sincere, Stann." She rested her hand on his shoulder. "We may come from different worlds, but we are all one here. You are part of us now."  
  
Stann remained silent, since he did not trust himself to speak. Her hand slipped from his shoulder. "We'll see you down there," she said with another gentle smile.  
  
Stann watched her join several other colonists heading to the transporters. He was immensely grateful for her words. He recognized the truth in them. The colonists had been more than kind, including him whenever they could. They were of more than a dozen species and treated each other equally. Together, they had a created a larger, unified fraternity, fostered by many decades of interaction--their Federation--which defined them as unquestionably as the individual cultures they each represented with pride. Even those who weren't part of the Federation, like the Klingons and Romulans, were still part of an intermingled society, distinguished partly by their relationships with each other. Keaynn had never had the opportunity to join such an intergalactic community. He was the only representative of his planet's rich culture; the only one who'd survived to tell of it.  
  
Stann sighed heavily. As determined as he was not to dwell constantly on the loss of his people, he continually failed that goal. It seemed nothing could quell that gaping emptiness in him.  
  
"Hey, Stann!  
  
Prebb, a Bolian and a historian by trade, approached Stann, a wide grin on his face. "Are you headed for the transporters?"  
  
Stann shook his head sideways, the typical Federation motion to indicate the negative, instead of the Keaynn short upward jerk of the head that was more natural to him. "I will be going to the surface tomorrow morning."  
  
"That's probably a good choice," Prebb said. He grimaced. "I hear it's a disaster in the transporter centers right now. But I'll just have to brave it, since Tarsh and I are beaming down at thirteen forty-five hours." He hefted the duffel he was carrying higher on his shoulder. "I'm probably running out of time--"  
  
"You have eight minutes, fifty-two seconds," Stann told him, using the Federation standard of time he translated quickly in his mind from Keaynn corcals and dorcals.  
  
Prebb's eyes widened. "It's amazing how you do that." He readjusted the duffel again, as well as the box under his other arm. "I wish I had two extra arms like you, Stann. I've gotta go. I've heard the turbolifts are crammed near the cargo bay decks too." He started jogging away as he spoke. "Hopefully I'll make it before Tarsh has to leave without me. He'd never forgive me! We'll see you down there!"  
  
Prebb's final words were shouted as he rounded the end of the corridor. The Bolians were among the most gregarious and high-spirited of those Stann had met on _Pioneer_ , always seeming to find enjoyment in whatever they did. He liked that about them, just as he liked the gentle empathy of the Betazoids and the spirituality of the Bajorans. Each of them seemed to represent an integral trait of the Keaynnin.  
  
Others were very different from the Keaynnin, but he liked and admired them as well. The humans, who were very brash but also intensely loyal, and the two Trill on the medical team were so wise and centered, old somehow despite their youth. The Andorians--well, except for Ambassador Diaza, they were quite gracious. The Klingons scared him with their booming voices and fierce expressions, but he had to admire their fearlessness. The humans, especially, seemed to admire them without trepidation, which Stann took as an endorsement.  
  
The oddest of all to Stann were the Vulcans, with their lack of emotional reactions. Odd, yet fascinating. In their straightforward logic there was no subterfuge, no simmering hostility beneath the surface, as there was with the Romulans, whom they so strongly resembled. And the Romulans he definitely didn't like.  
  
Stann realized he was standing still--delaying his purpose--and he resumed his course. He fingered the PADD he held in one of his hands. When he was still on _Voyager,_ Chakotay had offered him this device so he could record his thoughts and his memories. On _Pioneer_ , Prebb had listened to his stories about Keaynn and its people, insisting Stann record it all for posterity.  
  
Posterity. After Prebb had first used that word, Stann had looked up that unfamiliar term. It meant future generations, descendants, heirs. Progeny. When he'd told Prebb that there were no future descendants, no heirs to a world that no longer existed, Prebb had given the word a different definition, assuring Stann that the Federation sought knowledge of all cultures. There were even those whose actual job was pursuing knowledge of cultures long extinct, "archeologists" like Chakotay, who desired to understand people and events they'd never known, as if such understanding had intrinsic value in and of itself. It was not a concept familiar to Stann, but he had begun to understand and accept it.  
  
Prebb's interest had spurred Stann to recall much of his world, more than he would have thought possible. Not just the large things--like the autumn arts festival in Hewyddi City that had been the foremost gathering of artisans and musicians for over a thousand years--but the small things too. The sound of the Beynni birds warbling their songs to the sun at daybreak, the feel of soft Maselk-woven scarves on the skin, the sight of the brightly colored fishers' skiffs bobbing gently at their moorings off the Kertor pier in the early evening...  
  
At first those memories had been very painful, even though he wanted to remember them. But now he had even more reason not to forget the details. For the six metadorcals of this journey to his new home, a place that was very far away from all he had known, not only in distance but also in so many other aspects, Stann had contemplated a radical notion. He was far from radical by nature. At first he'd shied away from anything more than halfhearted musings and vague what-ifs. But as time passed, the idea had become more and more compelling. While it was true that the colonists treated him as one of their own, he was not one of them. He wanted--no, he needed--communion with his own kind.  
  
Stann stared at the data on his PADD again. At no time in the history of Keaynn had artificial means been used to simulate such a basic biological process. Since no such intervention had ever been necessary, there was no stated prohibition against it. He knew from his research that many of the species represented on _Pioneer_ required such intervention on occasion. Some even used artificial means as their primary method of reproduction. Despite the incomprehensible strangeness of it all, and the trepidation that filled him when he thought of actually pursuing such a course, if he succeeded...  
  
The turbolift stopped, and Stann quickly stepped out as several Bajorans stepped in. They smiled and called him by name, and he nodded back in greeting. He did not know all their names, though they all knew his, as he was the only of his kind onboard.  
  
He started toward Sickbay as the lift doors closed behind him. He hadn't scheduled an appointment with Doctor T'Pren, but he knew she would greet him with equanimity whether she was swarmed with patients or was engaged in quiet study. He even envied her impassivity. If he did not possess emotions, pain would not be ever present for him, nor this confusion he was feeling now.  
  
Jim Morrow, a human Stann saw frequently in the Colonist's Mess Hall and liked quite well--even if his sardonic observations were sometimes baffling--had said that Doctor T'Pren, even more than most Vulcans, spoke as if she'd swallowed a dictionary. Stann found her precise language, as well as her foundation in fact and logic, very reassuring. He was particularly hopeful now that she would consider his highly unusual and emotional request with a dispassion he himself could not hope to possess.  
  
Stann stepped into Sickbay. The large main ward was completely deserted. Even the nurses and techs he'd seen here on previous visits were gone, perhaps already on the surface, setting up the medical facility. He knew most of them would remain behind to render their services to the colonists.  
  
There was a movement in the doctor's office, and T'Pren stepped out. She didn't react with any surprise at his presence and waited for him to speak.  
  
"Doctor T'Pren." Stann bowed his head slowly, a traditional Keaynnin deference to someone of great status he couldn't--and didn't want to--break. "I hope this is not a bad time. I have an urgent matter I wish to discuss with you."  
  
T'Pren waved him into her office. As Stann sat in the chair she indicated she did not move behind her desk but took a second chair next to his. She faced him, her gaze astute, as if she already knew what he was about to say (though how could she?). Her first words seemed to confirm that interpretation.  
  
"I have been expecting you."  
  
  
 ** _New Earth (early evening)_**  
  
Jim Morrow crested the hill he been climbing for the past ten minutes and immediately leaned over, hands braced on his knees, to catch his breath. He was winded from the short climb. Four months on a starship had undone whatever conditioning he'd managed to acquire during his stint on Hellstone. _Pioneer_ had gym facilities and holodecks, but with over two thousand colonists and nearly two hundred crew, both were constantly booked and overcrowded. He wasn't all that fond of crowds, which was part of the attraction of New Earth. There would certainly be no crowding here.  
  
Jim straightened and inhaled deeply, relishing the scent of the evergreen trees around him and the fecund soil at his feet. Then he stepped beyond the trees and took in the view he'd climbed the hill to see.  
  
To the north, sloping hills gave way to steeper mountains that stood purple against the horizon. The coastal plain spreading to the west and south rolled gently, rockier towards the south, and was dotted with scattered stands of bushes and low-lying trees amidst meadows of short, golden grasses. It was bisected by a narrow river, visible by the dense ribbon of taller trees that lined its length. The river, along with its several tributary creeks, flowed into the sea two kilometers to the south and southwest.  
  
Or maybe it was an ocean. He was never sure about the distinction. He took another deep breath of fresh air and detected a sweet scent, perhaps from the bright blue wildflowers that dotted the grass around his feet. The sun, slightly more orange than Sol appeared on Earth, rose in the west and set in the east. It was low behind him now in the early evening sky, its coppery light filtering through the trees behind him, from where more hills faded into the east.  
  
Reflected in the slanted sunlight, and spread across a kilometer or so of the coastal plain below him, were the temporary shelters of the nearly two thousand colonists who had already beamed down, along with scattered piles of building materials, crates, equipment, small pieces of furniture, and household goods. Practically dead center was the site of the future embassy building. The Federation flag was already flying over it somewhat imperiously. The Romulan runabout was parked nearby. Jim was surprised they hadn't stuck the Romulan flag on it for equal representation. The colony's own fleet of six shuttles were lined up on a flat meadow practically straight down the hill from where Jim stood, where the future shuttlebay and landing field would be located.  
  
Other than the peripheral location of the landing field and the embassy's deliberately chosen central position, there was little order imposed on the settlement, though shelters were generally arranged in family groupings. He noted that the small Klingon contingent--a mother, two daughters, their husbands, and the three children between them--had set up their shelters, which were less commodious than standard Federation shelters, somewhat distant from the rest on the hilly northern side of the colony area. They weren't being particularly antisocial. Klingons liked to be near their hunting area. They planned to hunt here for small game to satisfy their preference for live food.  
  
While they weren't of the warrior class, and their matriarchal lineage was unusual on Qo'noS, the head of that clan was plenty fierce. The old matriarch, M'Resh, had drunk him under the table one night in the aft Colonist's lounge, even though he'd been drinking synthehol while she'd downed several bottles of blood wine with little obvious effect.  
  
Jim smiled at the memory, then started as he heard several twigs snap nearby, disturbing the silence around him. A moment later, voices joined in as two figures approached through the trees.  
  
"--and I'm too old for that, Raul."  
  
"Then you can be Cedric--hey!" Raul pointed the long stick he was carrying at Jim and said, "Who goes in the Forbidden Forest?"  
  
"Give it a break," Luis said.  
  
Raul waved his stick at his brother. "Silencio!"  
  
Luis rolled his eyes. "Hi, Jim."  
  
"Hello, Luis, and--er, Harry Potter, I presume."  
  
Raul beamed while Luis said, "He and Lajen started reading those books in class. Now they're play-acting as Harry and Hermoine."  
  
"I read them when I was a kid," Jim said. He didn't know anyone from Earth who hadn't read those classic tales as a child. "I recall being Harry Potter once myself. Now I guess I'll have to settle for...Professor Snape!"  
  
Raul laughed at Jim's lop-sided sneer, then shook his head. "Nah. That's Ambassador Diaza."  
  
Jim quickly converted a chuckle into a cough. Someone not quite evil, but definitely unpleasant--and best avoided whenever possible. It fit Ambassador Diaza almost too well.  
  
"This isn't Hogwarts, Raul. It's New Earth. That's Newww Eaaarth."  
  
Raul ignored Luis and grinned at Jim. "Besides, I decided you're Sirius Black."  
  
Jim's eyebrows rose. The accused murderer who'd been loathed and shunned by good wizards everywhere, except those few who saw the true person beneath the surface. He supposed there were similarities, except he had committed his crime, whereas Sirius had been innocent. He managed a brief smile for Raul. "Sirius Black it is. So, what are you boys doing up here?"  
  
"Dad said we could explore a little, as long as we stay within sight of the colony," Luis said.  
  
"And we can see it really good from here," Raul said, looking at the long stretch of shelters and supplies scattered across the landscape below. He pulled on Jim's hand. "Look! There's our house!"  
  
Raul was pointing excitedly toward an area near the river where several shelters were clustered. Michael and Kajee's tiny figures could be seen moving around the shelter Jim knew was theirs--at least, he assumed it was them.  
  
"It's only a temporary shelter right now," Luis said. "But Dad says the house should be built in a couple of weeks."  
  
Raul, who didn't concern himself too much with exact definitions, shrugged. "It's still our new home. See, Jim, Angelo and Celes are right next to us, and you're next to them."  
  
Jim had already erected his tiny single-person shelter. He'd left his few belongings inside, unpacked as of yet. As one of the original "Voyagers," he was part of the Ayala-Tessoni "family" by default. Though he'd been welcomed from the beginning, he sensed Michael's acceptance had recently become more grudging than genuine.  
  
"Dad said since he won't have the replicator working until tomorrow, we can have a campfire tonight and roast the hot dogs we brought from _Pioneer_." Raul's voice rose again with excitement. "Maybe we can make s'mores for dessert!"  
  
"And then we can all sing Kumbayah," Jim murmured sardonically, his gaze still focused on his single shelter. It was close to the others, yet somehow, it looked lonely.  
  
"What's Kumbayah?" Raul asked while Luis looked at Jim curiously.  
  
"It's..." Jim shook his head. "Never mind." His Boy Scout days were long behind him, both literally and figuratively.  
  
"You'll be there, won't you?" Raul asked anxiously.  
  
Jim had tended to drift in and out of the "family" gatherings on _Pioneer_. As Michael had said to him recently, with more than a hint of irritation, he seemed to decide his intentions at the last minute. It was hard to explain his reasons to a child, although Luis's sharp look comprehended more than it probably should. It certainly had nothing to do with Michael's boys, of whom he was very fond.  
  
He ruffled Raul's short hair. "I'll be there," he promised. The boy smiled back at him, satisfied. "But you two better head back down now. I'm not sure this is what your father had in mind when he said to stay within sight of the colony area."  
  
"It _is_ within sight, technically," Luis said, displaying a bit of adolescent bullishness that Jim figured had to be a good thing.  
  
"Let's go," Raul said to his brother. "I want to go to the beach before it gets dark. There might be some dolphins."  
  
"There won't be," Luis said. "There are no mammals in the oceans here. But there are some octopus-like creatures that come into the shallows. Octopi on Earth are pretty intelligent. Doctor Tanaka says the ones here might be even more intelligent."  
  
"Really?" Jim said, though he figured Luis knew well enough, since the boy had been doing a class-related internship in _Pioneer's_ biolab.  
  
Raul's eyes lit up with anticipation. "Cool! Let's go look for them, Luis. Maybe they'll want to play with us."  
  
"I wouldn't count on that." Luis gave Raul severe look. "Besides, you know we can't go in the water without permission."  
  
Raul waved his stick/wand at his brother. "You're Percy!" he taunted, then started to run. Jim took this as a synonym for spoilsport.  
  
Luis rolled his eyes again, with the tolerant exasperation of older brothers everywhere, then followed his energetic younger brother. Jim watched them disappear into the trees, knowing Luis would keep an eye on Raul and prevent the younger boy from wading into the water. He was glad they'd found each other again, and that they'd both found their father. And that they'd all found Kajee, a remarkable woman indeed.  
  
As Jim looked down at the colony again, his lips thinned as he recalled a confrontation with Michael three days earlier. It hadn't been a confrontation, exactly. More of a civil dispute. But it still rankled. He'd wanted to take the boys and Lajen to the holodeck, one of the few times during the entire journey he'd managed to secure a reservation. He'd even picked something quasi-educational; a mid-twentieth-century adventure story Tom Paris had told him about that contained historical references to the era. He'd expected Michael and Kajee to like the idea, not to mention the opportunity to enjoy an evening to themselves. Instead, Michael had been against it.  
  
 _"I'm not sure you should be supervising three kids alone."  
_  
Those had been Michael's exact words. As if the snakes, or Nazis, or the demons from the Ark of the Covenant could actually hurt the kids on a holodeck with full safeties engaged, for chrissakes. Or as if he wouldn't be with them the whole time.  
  
He'd cut off any further explanation Michael might have offered, ignored Kajee's attempt to intervene, apologize, or whatever, and left without even seeing the kids. During his holodeck time that evening he'd run another program created by Paris, Sandrine's, listening to the piano player pounding out soulful blues while flirting with the attractive barmaid who served him syntheholic martinis. The next morning he'd gone to breakfast as usual with the Tessonis and Ayalas, and they'd all pretended nothing had happened.  
  
Jim would admit to anyone who asked that he'd done little on _Pioneer_. He'd sat in on one of the building project meetings at Angelo's suggestion, but his strength wasn't in planning or design. He also hadn't taken part in open sessions held concerning various community agendas: street layouts, crop rotations, school schedules, cultural enrichment programs--all the stuff that was apparently so necessary for the establishment of a colony. But who really wanted his opinion anyway?  
  
And if he had been mostly idle on the trip here, what of it? To Michael, and maybe to others, it seemed to be a sign that he wasn't serious about his future. But why shouldn't he enjoy himself, hang out in the lounge areas with other colonists, and socialize with those who were going to be his neighbors for the foreseeable future? He'd be doing his part when the time came. He had as strong a back as anyone. It wasn't as if he was expected to do anything else.  
  
 _Or had offered_ , a small voice reminded him. He'd acquired a lot of scientific and engineering knowledge in Starfleet--and far sharper instincts about survival than he'd ever wanted to know. Since returning to the Alpha Quadrant, he'd deliberately allowed that knowledge to fade. Anything that reminded him of his years in Starfleet was something he'd rather forget.  
  
Which admittedly had left him with a big hole in his life, a lack of direction. He wasn't really sure what his strength was anymore. He was hoping to eventually figure it out here, although so far, it wasn't apparent. No doubt that was a point on which he and Michael would agree.  
  
Voices nearby penetrated Jim's cynical thoughts, and he realized several other people were on the summit. He peered through the trees and spotted a bright flash of color--the multi-hued jacket of Kimanji Zaji. Her bright smile flashed as she spoke with the shorter and more blandly dressed person next to her, Benda Akiva.  
  
The archeologists had come to the Delta Quadrant to explore several sites, including the Briorii homeworld. They were an eclectic group, ranging from the cheerful and wise Kimanji to the arrogant and egotistical Adamo. Jim supposed they were here taking advantage of the nearest high spot from which to get an overview of the colony site, as he had. Even now their gazes were fixed in that direction as Kimanji motioned with her hand.  
  
She was waving to someone, probably another of her colleagues. Who knew this damned hill would be so popular? Jim couldn't see who was joining them, but with his luck, it would be Adamo. He had no interest in another encounter with that man right now.  
  
He stepped back, making sure to stay out of view as he started down the hill in the opposite direction. It occurred to him briefly that his life here wasn't going to improve much if he alienated most of the colonists. So far, he'd only managed to antagonize a few of them, but he was sure, with little effort, he could improve on that number.  
  
  
  



	3. Act Two (Day Two)

  
**Act Two (Day Two)  
  
_New Earth--November 22, 2381, Stardate 57891.9 (late morning)_** _  
_  
Glera marked off the last item on the inventory list, assured that every pen, PADD and chip was accounted for, and breathed a relieved sigh. Ambassador Diaza wouldn't find one item amiss, no matter how hard he tried.  
  
With the ambassadors visiting Ocampa, only the support staff was here to document and organize the embassy's effects. And as Ambassador Diaza's chief aide, she was the one nominally in charge. She could have let someone else on the staff complete the inventory, but she was the one who would suffer if the job was not done right. Besides, she didn't mind the temporary solitude. She could hear plenty of people shuffling around her, but among this particular pile of crates and supplies, she was alone.  
  
There'd been no expectation of diplomatic duties to be performed on New Earth before the ambassadors returned, but there'd also been no expectation that the Romulans would remain here, or that they'd decide to establish their own embassy. In less than a day here, they'd already made numerous caustic observations. _It's quite imprudent for the Federation to build its embassies in such indefensible locations._ (Maybe because hiding behind a blast shield or an impregnable wall of rock didn't exactly lay out the welcome carpet!)  
  
Then there were the outright complaints. It definitely wasn't what she'd signed up for. Still, the pointed sniping wasn't that different from her old job in the Import office on Andor: Tariffs levied on Vulcan linens but not on Earth linens; Tellarite contract infractions overlooked while the Orion Trade Imperium was fined; Ferengi worker rights violations ignored in return for favorable price breaks on plumfruit--it was all political, just like the diplomatic service.  
  
She reconsidered her assessment when she heard someone behind her say in a cold tone, "There is another problem, _Aide_ Glera."  
  
Glera turned to the stone-faced Subcommander Leral. Her second, Centurion Tornak, stood behind her, his expression more animated, with annoyance at the moment. "What would that be, Subcommander?" she asked, wondering if there'd been another run in with the Klingons, who'd made no secret of their animosity to the Romulan presence here.  
  
"It is those _animals._ " Leral's voice was contemptuous, and Glera hoped she didn't mean the Klingons, though it was entirely possible. "The noise they continually make is unbearable."  
  
Ah. Noise. Glera suppressed a smile. The chickens that some of the human colonists had brought were confined to a "coop" inside a temporary shelter for the moment, so their cackling was not audible from here. The milk-producing Bolian grgaats were located in a grassy meadow near the colony's northern boundary, and the "meeh" sound they made was so low-pitched it was also inaudible. The two dozen or so zhevas, felinoid pets of the Betazoids, were silent, since they communicated through some sort of quasi-telepathic link. But the gregarious dogs of the humans, several hundred of them brought along also as pets, were the opposite of silent. They barked long and often, and the juvenile puppies yapped incessantly, as several were doing at the moment.  
  
Glera gazed at Leral and Tornak innocently. "To which animals are you referring?"  
  
"The canines!" Centurion Tornak snapped, even as one emitted another sound dogs apparently favored--a howl. Leral silenced him with a look.  
  
"I see. They do tend to bark, but I haven't received any complaints."  
  
Leral's lip curled slightly with disdain. "Romulan hearing is superior to that of other species. Apparently, even those Andorian antennae of yours are for decoration rather than function."  
  
Glera did smile this time, sweetly. "Fortunately for us, we have a layer of membranes within our antennae that we can utilize to shut out distracting noises. It is a more...sophisticated arrangement than your typical humanoid auditory system."  
  
Leral let the implied insult pass with little more than a slight narrowing of her eyes. "The point is, you have a complaint now. That continual barking is a serious disturbance to the natural environment of this planet."  
  
Glera's antennae twitched. "I had no idea the Romulans held natural environments in such high regard." In fact she knew they didn't. When the Romulans colonized a planet, they supplanted the local flora and fauna without compunction.  
  
"The issue is not Romulan regard for natural environments. As I recall, it is your Federation who preaches with a great deal of sanctimony that indigenous environments are invaluable and should remain undisturbed. Yet here you are, introducing alien animals that are certainly disturbing the natural balance here." Leral sneered. "How typically hypocritical."  
  
Glera shrugged. "All colonies have some impact on the native environment, Subcommander, though the Federation does advocate minimizing that effect as much as possible. Bringing along non-native domesticated animals is the best way to avoid any chance of native animals becoming unintentionally domesticated. There are locator collars on every non-native animal here, and the unidirectional force field around the colony's perimeter will contain them."  
  
"The field should go both ways," Centurion Tornak grumbled, swatting away a large insect. He received another hard look from Leral.  
  
"As I said," Glera continued, "the Federation interferes as little as possible with the natural order, including displacement of native fauna. That is part of the reason the largest continent will remain unsettled, by us or the Ocampa. You can report that back to your government, and tell them they can refer to the Federation's Environmental Impact Protocol for Colonies guide to assuage their environmental concerns."  
  
"Oh, I will be sending several detailed reports back to Romulus, be assured," Leral said.  
  
Glera smiled sweetly again. "I have no doubt you will. As for your current concern, the good news is that within the next few days the dogs will be released to individual colonists. I'm told they'll bark less frequently when they are not in one large group. The puppies will also receive obedience training when they are old enough. Meanwhile, your runabout _is_ sound-proof, isn't it?"  
  
Leral's eyebrow rose. "Certainly you do not expect us to confine ourselves to our runabout?"  
  
"Of course not," Glera said, though she'd be quite happy if they did. "But when the noise becomes too bothersome, it can serve as a refuge."  
  
Leral gave Glera a stony look and motioned to Tornak. "I see we are going to get little satisfaction on this matter. Good day, _Aide_ Glera."  
  
The centurion started to follow her, swatting at another insect on his neck, then muttering a Romulan oath when it bit him.  
  
"The colony's medical staff has an insect repellent available," Glera offered helpfully.  
  
"That will not be necessary," Leral snapped, without breaking her stride.  
  
Glera shrugged as they strode away. She supposed she'd better make Commander Ayala aware of the complaint about the dogs, in case any started to go missing. It was just one more thing to add to her list of Romulan complaints to be addressed.  
  
She shook her head. Who'd have thought she'd miss Commander Prolak's nonstop talking and annoying habit of watching every move she made, but she did. At least he made the effort to be sociable, unctuous as those efforts were.  
  
"Glera, Neusha Patel is here."  
  
Glera turned to Wang, one of the embassy's junior staff. "Thank you."  
  
Patel was co-head of the colony's building committee, along with Angelo Tessoni. Glera quite liked the pair. They were extremely competent and seemed well suited to dealing with the inevitable problems that cropped up during construction. During their many meetings to review the embassy blueprint plans, she'd also bonded with Neusha over shared cups of the sweet mint tea particular to her province of Earth and the delicate _me'chada_ pastries of Andor, which Neusha found very tasty.  
  
"Hello, Neusha," she said to the tall, dark-haired woman who approached. "I'd offer you mint tea and _me'chada_ cakes, but the replicator is not operational yet."  
  
Neusha smiled. "I'm sorry to hear that, but I'm short on time anyway. Mei Wang said you wanted to see me."  
  
"Yes. I have received an official communiqué from...Governor Diaza." Or so he had referred to himself in the communiqué. "He has informed me that _Voyager_ will be here in four days, and he expects the outer structure of the embassy to be completed before his arrival. He asked me to relay that, er, _request_ to you."  
  
Neusha's lips quirked with amusement. "I see. Well, we'll certainly keep _Governor_ Diaza's request in mind."  
  
"Thank you," Glera replied. She knew from previous experience not to bother pressing for a definitive commitment.  
  
"We'll be delivering the first load of materials tomorrow morning," Neusha said. "Maybe we can share some tea and _me'chada_ cakes then."  
  
"That would be pleasant," Glera said.  
  
Neusha waved as she strode away, the dark braid of her hair swinging in unison with her steps. Glera watched her as she considered her next action.  
  
Despite Ambassador Diaza's sense of self-importance, the title of "governor" was largely titular. His argument to Starfleet that the colony was a mere extension of the embassy had been rejected, much to his displeasure. In matters relating directly to the embassy, Diaza had the final word, but in matters that involved the colonist's daily lives, the Federation's Policies and Codes for Colonies dictated a democratic decision-making process. The colony already had its own project directors to oversee issues like construction, power production, sanitation, food distribution, and the like. None had so far shown any desire for input or direction from Diaza.  
  
Glera decided not to reply to Diaza's communiqué. The ambassador would take a non-reply as acquiescence to his wishes. It would be more peaceful for all involved, at least until his return. Then she would find a way to placate him, as usual.  
  
*  
  
"I still think it's ridiculous," Angelo Tessoni said, glaring across the rows of prefab materials and supply containers that covered several acres of grassy ground around him. His wife followed his gaze. The two Romulans were striding toward their runabout, their heavy, padded uniforms looking out of place among the casually dressed colonists. "Even if they wanted to initiate diplomatic relations--like that's for real--who's going to staff their embassy when there are only three of them in the Delta Quadrant?"  
  
Celes shrugged. "Maybe they'll send staff in a later transport. I don't really know. I don't care either, as long as they don't bother us."  
  
"I do," Angelo said. "They weren't invited here, and I don't trust them. Has anyone ever believed for a minute that the Romulan government wasn't behind that attack on _Voyager_?"  
  
"Probably not, but they covered their tracks well," Celes said. "We still have a treaty with them. And they were Federation allies during the Dominion War."  
  
Angelo snorted. "Only to save their own hides. And it wasn't a very comfortable arrangement, if you recall. Those torpedoes they tried to store at Derna might well have been aimed at Bajor after the war."  
  
"Maybe. But there are only three of them here--two right now. They can't cause much trouble with a security detail keeping an eye on them." Celes rubbed her husband's arm. "You know how good Michael is at his job, so why don't we just let him do it while we do ours."  
  
Angelo sighed. "You're right." He directed one last scowl at the Romulans, then turned his attention back to the pile of supply crates in front of him. A few seconds later he shouted "Here it is!" as he pulled a crate out from the pile, knocking several others aside.  
  
Celes smiled as Angelo tore open the lid and ran his hands lovingly over the assorted power tools inside. Nearly as lovingly as he ran his hands over her. "See, someone just didn't log it right. No harm done."  
  
"Good thing," Angelo said.  
  
Celes shook her head. "You boys and your power tools."  
  
"Hey, you should see Neusha. Even I'm afraid to get between her and her tools."  
  
"You _builders_ and your power tools."  
  
Angelo grinned and closed up the crate. "I've got to get these over to the Common. We're doing the grading today. It won't be long before you can start landscaping."  
  
The Common was the designated cultural and commercial centerpoint of the new colony, where the infirmary, school, and other public buildings would be located. The horticulture committee, to which Celes belonged, had already outlined the landscaping project for the large square. Their planning meetings on _Pioneer_ had often been prolonged due to the diverse viewpoints of its ten members, but she'd enjoyed every minute of it.  
  
Celes had originally joined Starfleet for the technical and scientific opportunities opened to Bajorans, opportunities so long denied them during the Occupation. She'd been the first in her family to do so, and they'd been so proud of her. But astrometrics, physics, the logic of mathematics, of stars and space--they all seemed cold and barren to her after a while. She could never learn to love them the way she loved tending to and growing living things.  
  
Celes had expected her favorite pastime would find little outlet in Starfleet, but _Voyager's_ small arboretum had been a particular disappointment. The tiny area of greenery only made her long that much more for the greenbelts on Bajor that were recovering from the Cardassian occupation. Once home again, she'd realized she had to do what she did love, what truly made her happy. The year and a half she and Angelo had lived on Bajor had only increased her passion. There was no shame in working with plants and soil, even if that choice was another element of her family's disappointment with her.  
  
But first, all the colonists would need to lend their skills to get the colony up and running smoothly. Her time in Starfleet had given her technical expertise in many areas, and she had offered to help set up the orbital satellite system. Soon enough, she would be focusing completely on horticulture, and here her opportunities really would be unlimited.  
  
"A credit for your thoughts."  
  
Celes turned and wrapped her arms around her husband's waist. "I'm thinking how beautiful it is here, and how glad I am that we came."  
  
A smile spread across Angelo's face. She knew he still experienced moments of doubt about this venture, and about being in the Delta Quadrant, the place where both of them had separately felt despair and longing for nothing more than to get home. He blamed himself for her growing distance from her family, but it wasn't just him. Much as she'd despaired, her time on _Voyager_ had changed her. While she'd been gone, her family had lived their life in one direction and she'd lived hers in another. She'd become a different person from the girl who'd left them eight years earlier, not all by choice, but now she couldn't go back to the Celes she'd been. And they hadn't been ready for whom she'd become.  
  
"Hey." Angelo dropped a light kiss on her lips. "I love you, you know."  
  
"I do, too," Celes whispered, and pressed her cheek to his shoulder, hugging him affectionately. They were both silent for several moments, until Angelo spoke again, his breath ruffling her hair.  
  
"Why don't you take a break for a few minutes?"  
  
She pulled away and looked up at him, her eyes narrowing with suspicion at his unexpected solicitude. "Angelo, we're not even sure yet."  
  
"I feel pretty sure."  
  
She did too, although she didn't want to get her heart set, just in case. She would know for sure in another day or two. She frowned severely at him. "Are you going to be one of those types, Angelo? Nervous and overprotective the whole time?"  
  
Angelo grinned. "It's my prerogative, isn't it? Besides, didn't you promise Billy a letter as soon as we got here?"  
  
She had. Hmpfh. "Fine, I'll take a short break. But don't think I'm going to sit on a chair eating _presa_ wafers and reading holonovels for the next seven months just to keep you happy."  
  
"Yes, dear. I mean, no, dear." Angelo pecked her on the lips again, his expression smug. She rolled her eyes as she watched him stride away, his beloved tool kit swinging at his side. She couldn't help feeling the blissful wave of emotion that swept through her.  
  
Her heart had already seemed full with her love for her husband, but now she knew it could be filled even more. She'd started to suspect her condition several days ago, but she wanted the first confirmation to be privately shared between her and Angelo. Securing a test kit from _Pioneer's_ busy Sickbay would have likely sent gossip throughout the ship, so she'd opted to wait a few more days, until the colony's pharmaceutical supplies were available for use.  
  
Until then, she was trying to focus on other things, like settling in and sending word of her and Angelo's safe arrival. She sat gingerly on one of the plastic crates, testing it for stability, and pulled out her PADD. Now was as good a time as any to drop a line to her dearest friend.

>   
>    
>  _  
> Dear Billy,_  
>    
>  _We're here! New Earth--finally! We had to remain in orbit for almost a week, which was pretty unbearable for some, including me. But we all managed to hold out until Captain Janeway gave us the go ahead to beam down. It was well worth the wait!_  
>    
>  _Remember that first time we saw New Earth from orbit? We thought it looked pretty nice then. I told you I thought we should all abandon_ Voyager _and stay with Captain Janeway and Commander Chakotay. You freaked out about the virus and told me I was crazy, but it seemed safer to me than going on without them. Not that anyone cared about our opinions, of course, and in the end it didn't matter anyway, since we went back and got the captain and Chakotay. I guess that was another indication that life works out the way it's meant to, huh?_  
>    
>  _Anyway, it turns out it's even more beautiful here than it looked from orbit. We've actually settled on the other side of the planet from where Captain Janeway and Chakotay were marooned. The climate here has only mild variations from summer to winter, which is fine with me. I never liked the cold much. (As I'm sure you recall, since you used to complain about the temperature setting in my quarters on_ Voyager _!) The soil is very fertile, suitable for a wide variety of crops. We've settled on a (fairly) level plain by the sea, though there are lots of hills surrounding us, with some mountains in the distance. There is a good-sized river and associated streams that flow from those mountains--a perfect source of clear, fresh water to drink! (We'll have a desalination pump if the summers get too dry, however.)_  
>    
>  _Does it sound anything like New Tuscany? Every time I look around, I think of the things you used to tell me about your home! Not only that, but there is a plan to grow grapes here and eventually produce some local wine! One of these days I might be able to return the favor and send you a case of_ New Earth Cabernet vintage, _say_ _2385_! _Angelo and I brought our last bottle of your cabernet with us, and we're saving it for a special occasion. (Yes, our anniversary just passed, but we decided to save it for the next one, for several reasons.)_  
>    
>  _Anyway, speaking of anniversaries makes me think of weddings. I wish we could have been at yours, Billy! Amelia sounds like a lovely person, but I'm still trying to imagine you--Billy Telfer--married! I'm happy for you though! It sounds like you two have melded perfectly into your family. I'm still amazed how you slipped right back into your old life without so much as a bump. You're one of the few, but I'm glad someone could do it._  
>    
>  _That's not self-pity, by the way. Yeah, I do wish my family had been more welcoming. But I don't regret anything that's happened, especially coming here. Sheron keeps me updated on everything at home, and she says the family will thaw someday. Maybe distance will make their hearts grow fonder, or at least more forgiving. Whatever. All I know is that Angelo and I are where, and with whom, we were meant to be._  
>    
>  _I do miss_ you _though! The transwarp project is still going strong, we understand, and maybe one of these days they'll find a way to get ships between here and the Alpha Quadrant in a matter of weeks, or even days. Then we could visit each other, and I could meet Amelia. I know I'll like her!_  
>    
>  _In the meantime, I'll keep sending letters, and you better reply--and not three weeks after the fact! No excuses about being too busy with the grape presses or whatever. You've got a zillion people in your family, and it's not like you have to press them with your feet!_  
>    
>  _I'll write you again in a few days to tell you more about our new home. I may also have some other interesting news to tell you. Say hello to Amelia for me, and to all your brothers and sisters. I can't remember all their names (don't tell them!), even though you introduced us when Angelo and I were there last March. Say hi to the kids too! (Oh, and congratulations on being an uncle for the twenty-seventh time!)_  
>    
>  _Oh, and one more thing. Those sniffles you mentioned? The incubation period for Vegan Choriomeningitis is fifteen days, so if you're reading this, you've passed that time already. It was just a measly cold, wasn't it? Aha, I was right again!  
>    
>  _
> 
> _Hugs and love,_
> 
> _Celes_

  
*  
  
"Mom!"  
  
Kajee Narel started at her daughter's voice. She been indulging in a few moments of quiet contemplation, enjoying the feeling of the sun on her face, something she'd acutely missed on _Pioneer_. She'd kept from Michael how difficult the last few weeks had been, when she felt as if the bulkheads were closing in on her. While she admired those who could do it, she'd quickly learned that shipboard life wasn't for her.  
  
"Mom, Tamil and Juanita want to know if I can come with them to the beach. Tamil's dad is going to check the water salin...something. Can I go with them? Please, please!"  
  
Kajee nodded at her breathless daughter, who was bobbing up and down on her feet. "Yes. As long as you listen to Tamil's father and do whatever he tells you to do!" She finished at a shout because at the word "yes" because her daughter had already started running back toward her friends. "Have fun!"  
  
"Thanks, Mom!" Lajen shouted back as she and her two young friends ran off together.  
  
Kajee shook her head, amused. She was sure she'd been just as energetic at that age, but now, just watching the children exhausted her. Professor Letreaux, the school director, had declared summer recess to commence with the beam down from _Pioneer_ , to coincide with the current season here and to allow time for the school to be built and furnished. Until studies resumed in another six weeks or so, the children of the fledgling colony--all seven hundred fifty-four of them--were free to bide their time as they chose. Most were helping their parents unpack and organize their belongings for at least part of the day. Lajen and the boys had assisted her with those tasks this morning. But once they were free to indulge in their newfound freedom and wide-open space, they made the most of it. It seemed there were children running everywhere within the boundaries of the colony.  
  
Kajee watched her daughter disappear behind the adjacent group of shelters to the south. She waved to Prebb, and the Bolian waved back before resuming his attempts to unwrap a large roll of fabric. Beyond the Bolians, more groups of shelters stretched toward the south and southwest. Just past the final group, a bluff overlooked the sea, visible as a narrow line of water stretching across the horizon.  
  
Kajee pulled her gaze from the pleasant vista and rummaged in the crate she'd opened a few minutes earlier, pulling out several dishes, including the glazed bluestone serving bowl that had been her grandmother's and then her mother's. She missed her parents and her brother, but this was where she wanted to be right now. Her family had supported her decision, even though watching her leave had been hard on them. She'd suffered more than her share of painful losses, as had Michael. This was their chance to move on, to rebuild their lives, not only for themselves, but also for Lajen, Raul, and Luis.  
  
"Need any help?"  
  
Kajee looked up at Jim, shading her eyes from the sun. "Thanks, but right now I'm just going through boxes, trying to figure out why we brought some of this stuff."  
  
"Hmm." Jim smiled wryly. "I guess there's something to be said for packing light."  
  
Kajee knew he'd boarded _Pioneer_ with nothing more than a duffel bag slung over his shoulder and that look of determined bravado he wore as a shield. She liked Jim. She'd always seen through his bluster to the wounded man inside. He still didn't believe in his own worth, or to his right to self-forgiveness.  
  
"You're right," she said. "When I get to the heavier stuff, I'll call you. Or Luis, if he's nearby."  
  
Jim looked toward the shelters of several Betazoid families some two hundred meters away, and Kajee followed his gaze. Just beyond them was a small tributary creek. It was little more than a trickle of water. Soon it would dry up completely until the winter rains, but it was visible because of the tall trees that lined its flat banks. The trees reminded her of Bilang trees back home. Michael likened them to Eucalytpus trees on Earth. Her eyesight was good enough to spot the small figure reclining under one of the trees. He was still there, reading a PADD.  
  
"Luis seems to be settling in comfortably here."  
  
"He says he likes it," Kajee said. "He spends a lot of time alone though. I still think he should socialize more."  
  
"He's been doing much better at that," Jim said. "I saw him around a lot on _Pioneer_ , especially in the biolabs."  
  
"He's got a strong interest in science, especially biology," Kajee said. She should ask Michael to encourage Luis to do another internship in association with his school studies. Or, she could always suggest it herself. She knew Luis liked her well enough, and she liked him; but he'd never made any move to take her into his confidence. That would no doubt come with time. "He likes to speak with the science staff. But I was thinking more of kids his own age."  
  
Jim patted her arm. "Don't worry so much. He'll get to that. He just has to go at his own pace. We all do."  
  
Kajee met Jim's astute gaze. "Yes, I guess we do."  
  
"You guess we do what?"  
  
Kajee turned at sound of the voice behind her and smiled at Michael. "I didn't expect you back so soon."  
  
"The main orbital defense system is installed," Michael said. "Now we just have to wait for Tarsh to finish the weather control augmentations. If Sarah Mackenzie can get the power supply grid online tomorrow, we can start testing it."  
  
Sarah Mackenzie was director of the power production project. So far, she had everything running ahead of schedule. "I expect she will. Did you decide on the limited version?" Kajee asked. She knew the subject had still been up for discussion between Michael, Sarah, and Tarsh, the Bolian who was heading weather control for the colony.  
  
"We're sticking with the limited system over this continent. We can't really justify the power expenditure to cover the entire planet. Besides, occasional plasma storms have been a natural occurrence here for millennia. There isn't compelling reason to change that, beyond providing protection for the Ocampa and us."  
  
Kajee nodded at that logic. Michael's glance slid from her to Jim, acknowledging his presence for the first time, then back. "So, what were you two talking about?"  
  
"Luis," Kajee said.  
  
"We were just discussing his progress," Jim said.  
  
"Luis is fine."  
  
Kajee was surprised at coolness in Michael's tone, and Jim's eyebrows rose. "That's what we were saying," Jim said.  
  
Kajee didn't like the tension between the two men. They were friends, bonded by their three years together on _Voyager_. Michael had always been sympathetic to the plight of the _Equinox_ crew, given his belief that some of Starfleet's training strayed, however inadvertently, into indoctrination. Michael had been as happy as anyone that Jim had decided to come along, yet lately, he'd become less tolerant of Jim's presence.  
  
"I'll see you later," Jim said to Kajee when Michael remained silent. He shot a quick, sardonic look at Michael as he strode away, and Kajee shook her head.  
  
"You two shouldn't be doing this."  
  
"Doing what?"  
  
Kajee gave Michael a reproving look. "You know what I'm talking about. I know you weren't happy about that fight, but it wasn't his fault."  
  
"It never is."  
  
Kajee shook her head. "Michael, you encouraged Jim to come here so he could straighten out his life."  
  
"Because I thought he _would_ straighten out and do something productive with his life. Instead he's spent his time sleeping to all hours, flirting with every girl on the ship, and getting into fist fights in the mess hall."  
  
" _One_ fist fight. And not everyone had an official position on _Pioneer_ ," Kajee pointed out. "Or a job that was useful on route, like my teaching."  
  
"He could have found something to do. Angelo invited him to several planning sessions, but Jim never bothered to show up."  
  
Kajee thought he'd gone to at least one of them, but she didn't bother saying so. "We're not on _Pioneer_ anymore, which means everyone has a job to do now." She knew more than a few of the colonists had wearied of the excess leisure time and were eager to be productive again. "Jim is starting with Angelo's crew tomorrow."  
  
"Um-hmm." Michael's acknowledgment was distracted. He was staring at Jim's small shelter, situated just beyond that of Celes and Angelo. They weren't there at the moment, but Jim was still outside his shelter, arms folded, looking toward the sea. "I'll be right back."  
  
"Michael--"  
  
"You're right. We shouldn't be doing this." Michael brushed her lips with his. "I just want to talk to him, Narel."  
  
Michael said her given name in that soft way during intimate moments or when he wanted to cajole her, and Kajee was usually powerless against it. She watched him go, hoping the two would patch up their differences. They had to. There were varying degrees of family, not only the family she and Michael were making with their children, but also this small group connected to each other by their time together on the original _Voyager_. She didn't want Michael and Jim to strain that connection--or lose it. Out here, all they had was each other.  
  
*  
  
Jim saw Michael coming. He could have walked away, but that would just be delaying the inevitable. They'd ignored each other last night during the barbecue, letting the kids' excitement keep everyone occupied, but they couldn't ignore each other forever. They might as well settle it now. And if Michael wanted him gone, he'd go. There was plenty of room here. Heck, there was a whole planet, and maybe the Ocampa would welcome him...  
  
"Jim."  
  
Jim pasted a smile on his face as Michael approached. "Hey, Michael." He motioned toward the cooler next to him. "Want a beer? It's pretty warm today, and a nice cold drink--"  
  
"No, thanks."  
  
Jim shrugged and pulled one out for himself. He pressed the cap release and heard the satisfying hiss of air escaping as the bottle cap popped open. "So, what's up?"  
  
Michael frowned at his flippant question. "Do you plan on getting your shit together, Jim?"  
  
Well, that was blunt. "I'm here, aren't I?" Jim said blandly.  
  
"Are you?" Michael asked. "Look, your personal life is your business. If you want to drink, pick fights, and hop from woman to woman--"  
  
Jim's guffaw cut off Michael's words. "First of all, how much hopping can I do here, considering the small number of single women?"  
  
"It didn't seem to stop you on _Pioneer_."  
  
"That's called flirting," Jim said. "Since when is that a crime? It's a harmless social interaction. And they flirted back." Most of them, anyway. "As for fights, I don't pick 'em, but I'm not going to ignore someone who's spoiling for one. Oh, and I drink synthehol now. You know that."  
  
Michael glanced at the beer in Jim's hand. "Yes, I do. Which means you aren't mentally or physically impaired, and you don't have a hangover the next day. Yet you do seem to need artificial assistance to enjoy yourself. Maybe even to feel good about yourself."  
  
"Really?" Jim asked sarcastically. "Have you noticed that plenty of people on _Pioneer_ enjoy synthehol? I've seen you drink it. Do you need it to feel good about yourself, Michael?"  
  
"No, I don't. That's the difference."  
  
Jim took a long drink from the beer bottle while Michael watched him steadily. "Are these criticisms of my lifestyle your way of telling me you want me to pack up and move my shelter to another location?"  
  
Michael looked startled. "Of course not. I just want you to understand my position."  
  
"Which is?"  
  
"I'm not interested in watching you do the same things over and over again. More importantly, I don't want my kids watching it."  
  
Jim stiffened. "You've already made it apparent that you don't trust me around them, even on a holodeck. I can't believe you think I'd actually let them come to harm."  
  
"I don't believe you would," Michael said. He sighed. "I admit I probably overreacted the other night. I know you wouldn't let them come to _physical_ harm. But they look up to you, Jim. You have an influence on them, and when they see you getting into fist fights, or--"  
  
"It was _one_ fight," Jim interjected. "And Adamo threw the first punch."  
  
"Maybe, but you threw the second. And the third. And the fourth."  
  
"Okay." Jim wasn't going to deny that. He had fast reflexes, and he knew how to use them. "But Adamo deserved it. He shouldn't shoot off his mouth."  
  
"Right. What was it he said again? That Chakotay knew how to marry the right woman?"  
  
Jim shrugged. "It was the implication." As if Chakotay married Captain Janeway simply to take advantage of her position in Starfleet to further his own ends.  
  
"So you have to call him an arrogant prick to his face?"  
  
"What was I supposed to do?"  
  
"Walk away?" Michael said. "Save me from having to put you in the brig to cool off? Captain Janeway and Chakotay certainly don't care what Adamo may think of their relationship, and I doubt they'd want to give him the satisfaction of his words receiving any regard at all."  
  
Jim hadn't thought of it that way. He just had the urge to wipe that smug look off Adamo's face every time he saw him, and he'd finally let that urge take control. "Maybe I should have held my temper," he conceded. Especially when Michael's boys had been there, watching. "But people like Adamo, and Diaza--"  
  
"Are windbags," Michael finished. "And best ignored."  
  
That was easier said than done, at least for him. "I'll work on it," Jim said. He wasn't going to make any promises, but he would try.  
  
"Fair enough," Michael said. He paused for a moment, and his expression became solemn. "You can have a great life here, Jim, if you want it. No one's standing in your way. We're _all_ starting over, and the past doesn't mean anything here."  
  
Except that all pasts weren't created equal. Admiral Diaza and a few of _Pioneer's_ crew had made Jim aware of that in subtle ways. He shook his head. "I don't think everyone has just forgotten _my_ past."  
  
"I doubt most of them even know about it, though it doesn't really matter. They're not the ones who have to forget, Jim. It's _you_."  
  
Jim lips lifted in a skeptical smirk. "Me?"  
  
"Think about it," Michael said. "I'm going to help Kajee finish our unpacking. I'll see you at dinner."  
  
Michael walked away without waiting for a reply. Jim watched him as he reached Kajee. She smiled and touched his arm, then slid her hand down until their fingers locked. It was a casual gesture, but an intimate one, an indication of the abiding connection between them. It made Jim envious.  
  
He turned away as the two disappeared into their shelter, surprised by his reaction. He hadn't been in the market for that kind of attachment, certainly not since his return to the Alpha Quadrant. He'd deliberately avoided reunions with old friends and what little family he had left. The occasional liaisons he'd had with women had been nothing more than quick, physical mergers. That had been his choice. Angelo had chosen to bond with Celes, while Noah had reconnected with his daughter, Hannah. If Jim had wanted someone's unconditional support, or someone to serve as a deeper reason for putting his messed up life back together, then he'd have someone. Wouldn't he?  
  
He couldn't help thinking of Marla. She'd had Harry Kim's unconditional devotion. She'd found what she'd longed for, but she'd turned away, convinced she didn't deserve it. She'd refused to believe that her worth wasn't inextricably tied to her past. He and Noah had both tried to reason with her, to no avail. Now it seemed he wasn't really any different at all.  
  
That wasn't a cheery thought. He was emotionally isolated and without direction--despite coming to New Earth to find a new direction--because he wanted it that way, not because anyone was standing in his way. Not because anyone here, or back in the Alpha Quadrant, cared much whether he succeeded or failed, but because he was flat out afraid to try again.  
  
Jim looked at the half empty bottle in his hand. Then again, maybe his thinking was screwed up, as usual. Who said he needed _this_ to feel good about himself, except Michael? If that were true, it would be working a lot better.  
  
Jim overturned the bottle and poured out the rest of the synthehol. It was warm anyway. He glanced back at his shelter, where his belongings were now unpacked and arranged well enough to pass a Starfleet inspection. He was as settled as a man who had next to nothing could be.  
  
He tossed the empty bottle into his recycle container and started walking northeast, toward the Common's site. Even though the actual building wouldn't start until tomorrow, there had to be something he could do for Angelo. Unpack tools, stack lumber, measure the structure markings, whatever. It would be better than loitering in front of his shelter with nothing to do but think.  
  
  
  



	4. Act Three (Day Three)

  
**Act Three, Day Three  
  
_USS Pioneer--November 23, 2381, Stardate 57894.3 (morning_ )**  
  
Doctor T'Pren sat at her desk with fingers steepled, brow furrowed, and mouth set in a tight line. She was not upset in the human sense of emotional distress, but she was disquieted. She had rechecked the data three times, diligently looking for any refutation of her findings. She'd found none. Unfortunately, there was no other conclusion. An error had been made, a grievous one, and it must be corrected immediately. But first she had to inform the captain.  
  
T'Pren pressed several keys on her console, initiating the necessary database search. By the time she returned, the information she would need to formulate the appropriate remedy should be ready. She rose from her chair and was headed for the door when her combadge beeped.  
_  
"Doctor T'Pren, this is Doctor Binet. We haven't received the altered formula for the repellent yet. Is there a problem?"  
_  
"Indeed, there is." It was Doctor Binet's request less than an hour ago that had led T'Pren to her current discovery. "My research indicates that the repellent will not be effective. I am devising an alternative treatment."  
  
_"An alternative treatment?"_ Margot Binet's tone was baffled. _"But I thought Romulans were genetically linked to Vulcans. It should be easy enough to adjust the repellent to their--"  
_  
"There is an additional complication, Doctor. I must consult with the captain. I will contact you shortly. Please wait for my call."  
  
T'Pren closed the channel before Doctor Binet could ask further questions. She calculated that she had twenty point three minutes before the computer retrieved all the data she required. That would be time enough to apprise Captain Merves of the current lamentable development, as well as inform him of the situation with Distor Stann. Perhaps the latter would lessen the unpleasant impact of the former.  
  
*  
  
Captain Joshua Merves poured a second cup of coffee--his limit for the day--and settled back into his chair feeling pleased with himself. The transfer of the colonists and all their belongings had gone quite smoothly. In fact, now that he reflected on it, the entire trip to the Delta Quadrant had gone smoothly. He'd never been on a ship with over two thousand people, let alone considered what was entailed in running operations on a massive transport vessel like _Pioneer_. And while the ship _was_ massive, dwarfing both _Voyager_ and _Odyssey_ together, it had felt pretty cramped at times.  
  
Now it was almost empty. With the colonists now on New Earth and about half the crew on shore leave, Merves figured there were less than sixty people aboard right now. Other than the occasional beeping of status indicators and the low hum of forced air circulation, the ship was silent as a tomb, as his father would say. His father was an archeologist, so he would know.  
  
Merves took a sip of his coffee. He supposed a colony could be a nice place to live, if you enjoyed that sort of thing. He'd lived in plenty of them during his childhood. He preferred to be in space, which was why he'd joined Starfleet instead of following in his father's footsteps. His parents had worried that serving on a starship was dangerous, but he'd seen enough destruction during the war--entire colonies wiped out, planets like Betazed and Cardassia laid half to waste--to believe any place was completely safe. If they'd seen some of the things he seen--  
  
The door announcer beeped, and Merves was glad to dismiss memories not worth revisiting. "Enter."  
  
"Captain Merves." Dr. T'Pren inclined her head briefly in greeting as she entered. "I have two matters that require your attention."  
  
Merves waved a hand toward the chair in front of his desk. "Have a seat, T'Pren."  
  
T'Pren sat, and raised an inquiring eyebrow before she spoke again. "Would you prefer to discuss the pleasant matter first, or the unpleasant?"  
  
Merves' mouth quirked. Despite her Vulcan equanimity, T'Pren had worked with humans for a long time, and it showed. "Give me the good news first. Maybe it will make the bad news easier to take."  
  
"Very well. Distor Stann has requested my assistance in propagating his species."  
  
"Propagating..." Merves' voice trailed off in confusion. "I thought he was the only one who survived the destruction of his planet."  
  
"Technically, no."  
  
"I see," Merves said, though he didn't. "Well, that's good news, but you're going to have to explain further, T'Pren."  
  
"Of course, Captain. Keaynnin biology is markedly different from that of most humanoids, particularly in the area of reproduction. On Keaynn, when a young male and female engaged in sexual intercourse, the female deposited an egg into the male's genital tract. The egg was then stored in a sac within the male's body. If you would like me to explain in specific detail the biological processes and organs involved in transferring--"  
  
"Not necessary," Merves said. Clearly the Keaynnin were--had been--unique. "Continue."  
  
"During this early phase of sexual maturity, both males and females were highly active, mating frequently, and with multiple partners. Each time a male and female engaged in sexual intercourse, an egg was transferred. At a certain age, a Keaynn female went through a final phase of sexual maturity, wherein she and a chosen male entered a monogamous relationship and married. At that time their sexual intercourse became limited, and focused on reproduction only."  
  
"Only?" Merves echoed.  
  
T'Pren gave him a cool look, then continued. "During this stage of sexual activity, the male returned an egg to the female during intercourse, along with a wash of sperm. Generally, this involved one egg at a time, although occasionally, multiple eggs might transfer. This resulted in fertilization and implantation of the egg within the female's uterus nearly one hundred percent of the time--if Stann's information is accurate--and pregnancy occurred. The child was born some five months later."  
  
Merves held up a hand. "Wait a minute. If I'm understanding you, then these fertilized eggs do not contain the mother's genes?"  
  
"Most likely not, though there is always the possibility that the mother may have had intercourse with the father during the sexually open phase of her life."  
  
"Interesting." To say the least. Merves was aware of a number of unusual methods of reproduction in the galaxy, but this one was stranger than most. "So, in Keaynnin culture, it is paternity that is fact, while maternity is merely a rumor."  
  
T'Pren's eyebrow rose at the captain's amused smile. "If I understand your idiomatic meaning, that is partially correct, though maternity is not even a 'rumor.' It is irrelevant. In Keaynnin culture, the woman who bears the child is its undisputed mother. In human cultures--and Vulcan cultures of the past--genetic parent issues generated much animosity and a long history of sexual discrimination. Because of their method of reproduction, such sexual conflicts did not occur in Keaynnin culture."  
  
"I suppose not," Merves said. Maybe that also explained the remarkably peaceful nature of the Keaynnin, as Stann had described their culture. There were no sexual politics to feed aggression. "Exactly how does this relate to Distor Stann?"  
  
"Distor Stann is carrying in his reproductive sac a number of eggs. He had not yet mated permanently. Among the Keaynnin, infertility was apparently highly uncommon, thus no methods of artificial reproduction were ever developed. Stann, however, has discovered that such methods do exist within many cultures in the Federation. After much reflection, he has requested my assistance in exploring the possibility of adapting those methods to his Keaynnin biology."  
  
"Can it be done?" Merves asked.  
  
"Yes. I have reviewed the matter with Doctor Ibrahim, the colony's geneticist and neonatologist, and we have devised a method to extract and fertilize the eggs, then chemically stimulate the embryos to grow to term in the colony's incubators."  
  
"Exactly how many eggs are we talking about?"  
  
"Two hundred and sixty seven."  
  
Merves' mouth fell open. "Two hundred..." His mouth closed again, while he tried to comprehend that number. "Is that feasible? For Stann to raise two hundred and sixty seven children?"  
  
"Doctor Ibrahim will not remove all the eggs at one time. The intention is to stagger the births over many years. Stann has become quite admired among the colonists, who sympathize with his plight. I believe they will be willing, if not eager, to assist him in raising his offspring. As for Stann, despite his appreciation of the kindness the colonists have shown him, I believe his mental and emotional health hinge on communion with his own kind."  
  
"I wouldn't doubt it." Merves had also sympathized greatly with Stann's plight. He couldn't imagine being the last human being in the galaxy. The mere thought gave him the willies. To know that humankind was extinct, that he was totally alone, the last of his kind--he didn't know if he could live with that knowledge. He wasn't even going to entertain the thought of Earth, its people, its culture--its entire history--obliterated from existence.  
  
"There is another issue, Captain," T'Pren said. "That of saving the Keaynnin as a species. Stann's offspring will all be half-siblings, yet they will have the natural desire to propagate their species. While close relatives in most cultures, including the Keaynnin's, are generally discouraged from reproducing to avoid the inbreeding of genetically undesirable traits, genetic variations can be artificially introduced to diversify the gene pool. Since the Keaynnin reach sexual maturity in approximately twelve years, within a century they may be able to produce a sustainable population."  
  
Merves had seen few greater tragedies than the one which had happened to the Keaynnin. Even the worlds most devastated during the Dominion War were starting to rebuild and repopulate. To save a species that no longer existed except in a single living individual would be nothing short of amazing. "You think it can actually be done? Revive an entire species?"  
  
"Were it a more typical humanoid species such as Vulcan or human, there would be no possibility at all. The Keaynnin's unique method of reproduction may well be their salvation. Though there are still several unknowns to confront, I believe it is not only possible, but probable that the Keaynnin will survive as a race."  
  
Merves was silent for a moment, contemplating. "The Vidiians have accepted a normal population growth rate for the colony. Since Distor Stann is now a member of the colony, he is entitled to such consideration also. But should this effort succeed, the Keaynnin may well outgrow the colony in a few decades."  
  
"It may be a temporary arrangement," T'Pren agreed. "Should Distor Stann and his offspring successfully produce a sustainable population, a suitable planet can be found to provide them a new home--if not in the Delta Quadrant, given the paucity of uninhabited planets, then in the Beta Quadrant, where the Keaynnin originated."  
  
It seemed appropriate to eventually resettle the Keaynnin near their original home. "I think the Vidiians will accept that reasoning." If not, Merves figured Kathryn Janeway could use her considerable charm to convince them to allow the Keaynnin to remain. He picked up his coffee cup, which was already cold to the touch. "I'm extremely happy for Stann. This is very good news. I'd like to sit here and consider all the ramifications, but first you'd better tell me the bad news."  
  
"The Romulans were not vaccinated against the New Earth virus."  
  
Merves almost dropped his coffee cup at T'Pren's bald statement. "What?!"  
  
"The Romulans were not--"  
  
"I heard you." Merves set his cup down and shook cold droplets of coffee off his hand. So much for reveling in the imminent resurrection of an all but extinct species. "You should have told me this immediately!"  
  
"You said you wanted the pleasant news first."  
  
"Never mind. Just tell me how this happened."  
  
T'Pren didn't flinch at the captain's harsh tone. "When the Romulan observers were added to the passenger manifest at the last minute, Starfleet sent a directive to the colony's medical team ordering vaccination for the Romulans. Apparently the directive was not received, or it was overlooked by the medical team during the final preparations. Before departure, I verified the accuracy of the passenger manifest and the receipt of all medical records. I regret to say I did not search those records to verify if the Romulans had received the ordered vaccinations."  
  
"That wasn't your job, T'Pren," Merves said. "It was the responsibility of the colony doctors to verify and update the records with all required vaccinations."  
  
"Indeed. However, I should have considered the propensity for error among non-Vulcans, and I neglected to do so."  
  
Merves wondered if that was the Vulcan version of a left-handed compliment. "Placing blame is pointless at the moment," he said. "We need to get the Romulans vaccinated."  
  
"Unfortunately, it is too late for that, Captain."  
  
For the second time in as many minutes Merves was dumbfounded. "What?"  
  
"They have already been bitten by the insect carriers," T'Pren explained. "I am in the process of altering the antidote _Voyager's_ EMH obtained from the Vidiians during that ship's original visit here. I should have a version suitable for Romulan physiology in approximately thirty-nine minutes."  
  
Merves took that as a guarantee, give or take a few seconds either way. "Very well. As soon as the antidote is ready, meet me in the crew transporter room. We'll beam down to the colony to deliver the news to the Romulans, along with the antidote. We'll have the solution to the problem ready to deliver immediately." Which might counteract the worst of the certain Romulan outcry. Or not. "Dismissed."  
  
As soon as Doctor T'Pren left his office, Merves contacted the Bridge. "Commander Rees, contact Commander Ayala. Tell him to find the two Romulan observers and bring them to the embassy grounds in forty minutes. Then come to my Ready Room."  
  
Rees acknowledged, and Merves rested his head against his chair, frowning at the ceiling. It should be a simple matter to vaccinate the two Romulans and Commander Prolak when he returned on _Voyager,_ although he suspected the Romulans wouldn't see it that way. Hopefully, their recent dependence on Starfleet's generosity in getting them here would abridge any sense of injury, and thus avoid a serious breach between the Federation and the Romulan Empire. As if that didn't happen once every few years anyway.  
  
The Ready Room door slid open and Bryna Rees stepped in. "Message received by Commander Ayala, sir," she said before he could ask.  
  
Merves nodded and motioned for Rees to sit. He found her a very capable first officer, often able to anticipate his requests before he even voiced them, probably because of her Betazoid ancestry. He also considered her a good friend, though he was sometimes uncomfortable with her ability to read his mood so readily--not that it required Betazoid empathy to read his mood at the moment.  
  
True to form, Commander Rees' brow furrowed with concern as she settled herself in the chair T'Pren had recently vacated. "What is it, sir?"  
  
Merves briefed her on what T'Pren had just told him.  
  
  
**_New Earth (late morning)_**  
  
Luis cocked his wrist the way Jim and his dad had shown him. With a quick flip of his arm he let the rock go and watched it sail out over the water. It hit the smooth surface at an angle and bounced, one, two, three...four...five times! Luis threw his arms in the air and whooped, then quickly looked around to see if anyone was watching.  
  
Five times! That was as good as his dad had done in the Lake Baikal program a couple of weeks ago. Jim had done better, seven times, though Sergei Gagarin had done the best. Eleven times!  
  
Luis picked up another rock, and frowned at it. His father had told him not to bother Jim right now because Jim was dealing with some issues and needed to keep his focus. But Luis wasn't a kid, and he didn't need to be protected. Jim was moody sometimes, and he had a temper, and he liked to drink synthehol. Luis knew synthehol didn't have the same detrimental effect as real alcohol, but it had some effect, or some of the adults at the labor camp wouldn't have traded just about anything to the Cardassians for it, even a night with one of their children.  
  
Luis pushed that memory away. He tried never to think about the camp, even though Counselor Novetti told him he shouldn't hold in those thoughts or feelings when they wanted to come out. It was all right when he was with her, or if he was alone and no one could see or hear him, but he didn't want his father and Kajee looking at him with that worried look in their eyes, like he was about to lose it or something.  
  
Anyway, Jim was different. Some of the camp prisoners had given up, helping the Cardassians keep order, even spying on their fellow prisoners in the camp just to make it easier for themselves. Luis didn't think Jim would have done that, not for synthehol or anything.  
  
Luis cocked his wrist and tossed the rock toward the water. The angle was too steep this time. It only bounced once in an ungraceful plop before sinking. He shrugged and sat down on the bank, staring at the green water for a minute before picking up his PADD. He had promised Kajee he'd be back by eleven hundred hours, so he had a little time to write the letter he'd promised.  
  


>   
>  _Hey, JJ:_  
>    
>  _Thanks for your letter. It must be fun having two homes now. Utopia Planitia would be a cool place to live, with all the ships and stuff. We were only there for a couple of days before we boarded_ Pioneer, _but I liked it. Being on_ Pioneer _was pretty cool too, even though it was really crowded. And after four months, it was hard to find any place on the ship you hadn't been. So I'm glad to be on New Earth now._  
>    
>  _I like it here. I feel...free, I guess. There's no war, at least not one we're involved in. Dad's told me stories from when he was on_ Voyager _, so I know there are conflicts and stuff in the Delta Quadrant, too. But at least I don't have to hear about the Dominion War all the time. It's so far away, it's almost like it didn't really happen, you know?_  
>    
>  _School is out right now, since it's summer here. Not that I mind school. There are quite a few kids my age. They're nice, though sometimes they seem younger than me. There are enough of us to make up a Class of '85, like a real secondary school. Dad asked me last night if I wanted to work in the biolab we're building here, for an internship. I did that on_ Pioneer _as part of my classwork. I do like biology a lot, so I probably will. Then I can go out and catalogue all the new species on New Earth._  
>    
>  _Oh, there are some really cool animals here! The little monkeys are friendly, though most of them live on the other side of the planet. The ones that are here chatter A LOT. Last night a Bolian who has a shelter a little south of ours was screaming at one of the monkeys because it wouldn't shut up! But they have a right to be here, 'cause they were here first. Really, it's their planet._  
>    
>  _The animals I like the best are the octopi. That's what we call them, even though they have ten arms, and six eyes that go all the way around their heads. I went down to the shore with Doctor Tanaka early this morning, and we talked to some that were sort of hanging on the rocks, half in and half out of the water. They watch you while you talk, and turn their heads, and look at you with each eye, like they see something different with each one! Their eyes look really smart too, like they understand everything you say. Maybe they do._  
>    
>  _I'd love one for a pet, but they're wild animals, so we just study them. At home we're going to have a puppy, which is okay too. Really, it will be Raul's 'cause he's so crazy over dogs, but it's a cute puppy, all black and silky. Raul's naming him "Dobby." Yeah, pretty stupid, huh?_  
>    
>  _What can you expect from kids? Especially little brothers. They're pests, but I guess you know that. Caitlyn does sound pretty cute though. It must be fun pulling all that stuff out of her mouth (ha, ha). Lajen's a nice girl, though she's a lot older than Caitlyn. It would be interesting to have a baby around. Lajen wants a little sister bad, so maybe my dad and Kajee will have one someday._  
>    
>  _Well, I don't want to just talk about myself. Did you hear from the Academy--  
>    
>    
>  _

  
Luis shut off the recorder on his PADD and stared through the trees along the river. He was sure he'd heard some twigs breaking, like someone or something was moving nearby. He thought it might be one of the monkeys. Though they could be heard at night, he'd only seen a couple during the day, and just from a distance. He heard a sharp snap, and then he saw a much larger figure broke through the trees.  
  
Luis stared at the Romulan centurion. Tornak, that was his name. Prolak was the commander, the friendly one who smiled too much. Subcommander Leral looked through people as if they weren't there. Centurion Tornak had always looked angry every time Luis had seen him, and not like the Klingons, who liked to look angry for the enjoyment of it.  
  
Right now though, Tornak looked different, desperate or something, as he lunged toward the river a few meters away. He was sweating a lot. Luis remembered Vulcans only sweat under extreme conditions, or when they were ill. Maybe Romulans were different.  
  
Tornak splashed water from the shallow river over his face, threw his head back, and shook off the excess. His head abruptly stilled, as if something had caught his attention, and then he swung around and looked at Luis.  
  
Luis felt a small shiver go down his spine. He'd heard a lot of stories about Romulans, though he knew most of them were exaggerated. At least his father had said so. Tornak's eyes looked dull, the way some of the Bajorans in the camp had looked when they were about to fall over from exhaustion, when no number of whip lashings would get them up again.  
  
"Are you...okay?" The last word died on Luis's lips. The Romulan turned and crashed back through the dense brush. Luis watched him disappear. Then he released a pent up breath and reactivated his PADD.  
  


>   
>  _Um, sorry, JJ. One of the Romulans here just went by. He startled me. They're definitely weird. Creepy even. They look like Vulcans, except for the eyes. Vulcan eyes are all calm and quiet. Romulan eyes are glittery and hard. Well, Commander Prolak's aren't, but he's even weirder, trying to be so friendly and all. Anyway, they're leaving soon._  
>    
>  _I have to get home soon to help Kajee take some stuff to the main recycler, so I guess I should go. Write me back and let me know how things are going on Utopia Planitia (and in Ireland), and what's happening with the Academy. Tell Annie and Patrick "hello" for me, and your dad too. Oh, and hug Caitlyn for me. I hear that's good for babies._
> 
>   
>  _Hasta luego,  
>  Your friend,  
>  Luis Ayala  
>    
>  _
> 
> _P.S. I can skip a stone five times! Have you ever tried it? It's fun!  
>    
>    
>  _

  
Luis grinned and shut off his PADD. He wondered if JJ had ever skipped a stone, or if he'd be giving it a try once he got this letter. He glanced at the river, contemplating whether to try his skill with a few more stones, but he decided against it. He'd be late getting home if he didn't get going. Not that Kajee would be mad. She was pretty cool about everything, and not pushy at all. But he tried to keep his promises, like his dad did.  
  
Luis had wandered up the river a bit, so he moved along the bank before heading back through the trees. The Common was just to the east. He could hear the pounding and buzzing of the construction equipment and tools. He remembered that Angelo and his crew were finishing the infirmary today. Later on they would add the science labs, storage buildings, a meeting hall, and the school. The embassy fell in there somewhere, too. Even mentioning the embassy made Angelo laugh for some reason.  
  
What Luis was really waiting for was his family's turn to build their house. He would get to help with that. It wouldn't be a big house, like Joe and Annie's in Ireland, but it would be big enough for him to have his own room.  
  
Luis froze as something moved in front of him. He was nearly out of the trees, near the shelters closest to the river. Someone from there was probably wandering by. He took a cautious step just as the person he didn't want to see appeared in front of him.  
  
Tornak looked even sweatier than before, and he was swaying against the tree like he was going to fall over. Luis started to back away. If the Romulan was ill, he figured he should go get help. Definitely get help. He took another step back, and Tornak's head whipped up.  
  
"You!" Tornak spat out the word. "You are following me!"  
  
"No! I was going home." Luis took yet another step back. "You look kind of sick--"  
  
Tornak swayed again, and hissed, "Liar!"  
  
"I'll, uh, I'll go find a doctor." Luis turned to run, but before he even got his legs moving a hand grabbed him from behind and jerked him around by the collar of his shirt. He was nearly as tall as Tornak, but the Romulan was far bulkier, and stronger, too.  
  
"You will not betray me to them!"  
  
"No, I--" Luis winced as Tornak twisted his fist in the shirt collar. The Romulan abruptly released him, only to clap his hand around the back of Luis's neck.  
  
"Move!"  
  
Luis had no choice but to do so, since Tornak's hand was gripping his neck tightly. Tornak pushed him out of the trees and away from the riverbank. Right in front of them were several shelters, with boxes of shovels and other tools used by the archeological team scattered around. The team expected to spend most of their time traveling to various sites in the area, but this would be their home base.  
  
Luis looked furtively for someone. He liked Kimanji Zaji and had even talked with her and Captain Merves once--or at least, listened to them discuss some site where the captain's father had worked. There was no movement at all. The archeologists were somewhere else.  
  
Tornak pushed Luis past, as if he didn't even notice the shelters. There were more shelters beyond these that belonged to some Bajoran families, Luis recalled, but no one was there either, at least not outside. He could hear voices in the distance and noise from the Common, but they were all too far away to see him. Then he saw two people maybe fifty meters away, walking in his direction. He wanted to scream, but Tornak's grip was so tight--  
  
Tornak jerked him forward and, as if he was reading Luis's mind, said, "Scream and I'll snap your neck."  
  
Luis didn't scream.  
  
*  
  
"You are telling me you vaccinated the _canines_ , yet neglected to consider our well-being? You give us, your _allies_ , less thought than those odious animals?"  
  
Captain Merves marveled at how Subcommander Leral's voice could be so frigid while her lips were pulled back in a snarl. "That's not exactly how it was," he said. "As you recall, you didn't inform us of your intention to visit New Earth until we arrived here. We didn't expect you would be exposed, so we had no reason to vaccinate you."  
  
That was stretching the truth a bit, considering the directive from Starfleet had ordered vaccinations for the Romulans. T'Pren's arched eyebrow conveyed her disapproval of his prevarication, despite the logic of his words.  
  
"And it didn't occur to you until now, _three_ days after we came to this planet, that we would be exposed?" Leral said, showing no signs of thawing.  
  
That Merves couldn't excuse. "No, it didn't, and for that I do apologize. But we're here now to rectify that oversight. Doctor?"  
  
"My scanner has verified that you have contracted the virus, Subcommander." Doctor T'Pren held up a hypospray. "This antidote will render the virus inactive in your body."  
  
"Since we still haven't located Centurion Tornak--ah, Commander?" Merves looked expectantly at Ayala as he approached.  
  
"Glera hasn't seen him either. I checked the runabout, in case he stepped in there unnoticed." Ayala held up a small object. "I did find his combadge."  
  
Which was why Tornak hadn't answered Ayala's hails. Better than him refusing to answer, Merves supposed. "Subcommander, why would the centurion remove his combadge?"  
  
Leral frowned. "I don't know. Maybe he changed his clothes. Earlier this morning he said he was feeling too warm. He did look flushed..." Leral's eyes widened, and she turned to T'Pren. "I thought you said the virus was only dangerous if we _left_ the planet!"  
  
T'Pren ignored Leral's accusatory tone. "That was true for the two humans from the original _Voyager_. Romulan physiology may react differently..." she glanced at her medical scanner, "...though you show no outward symptoms." She turned to Captain Merves. "I cannot verify that is the case for Tornak until I can examine him."  
  
"When were you and Tornak first bitten?" Merves asked Leral.  
  
"He was bitten the first day. I was not bitten until yesterday."  
  
"Yet you didn't request the repellent--which you'd initially rejected--until this morning?" Merves asked.  
  
"I did not feel it was necessary! We do not wilt at minor discomfort as you humans do. It was only today that he began to act strangely."  
  
Terrific. Tornak might really be ill. How ill, Merves didn't want to think. He looked at T'Pren. "The antidote will still cure him?"  
  
"I believe so," T'Pren said. "However, I suggest we locate Tornak quickly."  
  
"The colony's scanning system is only semi-functional, Captain," Ayala said. "It's still subject to random interference."  
  
Merves nodded grimly and tapped his combadge. "Merves to _Pioneer_."  
  
*  
  
Jim Morrow swallowed the last of the water in his canteen as he walked back toward the Common--or what would be the Common once the buildings were in place and the landscaping completed. The infirmary building, the first to be raised, would be finished this afternoon. Thanks to the wonders of prefab hardwood and duraplast it wasn't a complicated job, but it was a lot of physical work. His job on Hellstone had been hard work also--backbreaking, in fact--but his only motivation there had been to make enough money to pay for a bed each night, and buy the bourbon that let him eventually fall asleep in it. Or, more correctly, pass out in it, if he didn't land on the floor first.  
  
Jim clipped his canteen to his belt and stretched his back, feeling the dull ache of muscles he hadn't used much during his four months on _Pioneer_. It was an oddly pleasant sort of ache, the affirmation of meaningful work. He supposed that was the difference. Even if his contribution was only manual labor, he was building something of significance to him, and to his future.  
  
He wished now that he _had_ attended more of the planning meetings. He didn't have an architect's sense of space and structure like Angelo did, or his skill at carpentry; but he could learn pretty much anything if he had the interest.  
  
That was the catch, the thing that had eluded him since he'd been discharged from Starfleet. Real interest in anything, except himself. Angelo, Noah, even Marla--they had all moved on. He hadn't, especially not emotionally.  
  
He'd been thinking about that, staring at the river flowing sluggishly by while he ate his replicated cheeseburger.  
  
"Keep going!"  
  
The sharp words drew Jim's attention to a grouping of shelters where Melia Gend and her family had settled. She had some sort of Betazoid government background, which perhaps explained her willingness to take on the position of colony jurisdictional liaison and to locate her residence right next door to the embassy. Few others wanted to be within shouting range of Ambassador Diaza.  
  
Jim stopped. The figure moving past the furthest shelter wasn't Melia or anyone in her family. It was Tornak, the Romulan centurion, probably on his way back to the embassy grounds. But he was walking oddly, like he was off-balance.  
  
And he wasn't alone. A slighter figure was on the other side of him, so close, Jim could clearly see Tornak had an arm around the person's--the boy's--shoulders. Jim could tell it was a boy from the slender, not quite filled-out build. As Tornak moved he caught a glance of the boy's face.  
  
What the hell? Why was Luis with Tornak? Jim started to shout, but his mouth fell open instead as he realized that Tornak didn't have his arm around Luis's shoulders. He had his beefy hand clamped around the back of the boy's neck in a chokehold!  
  
"Excuse me..."  
  
The second voice came from the front of one of the shelters. Tornak twisted abruptly, almost jerking Luis off his feet. Although Jim was also in his line of view, he snarled at the Betazoid male, who was closer. "Back away!"  
  
Tornak had no weapon--none were allowed among the colonists, excluding the security team--but his enraged voice was enough to startle the Betazoid, who backed up, eyes wide with alarm. Tornak immediately prodded Luis on, obviously not worried that there were witnesses to his abduction of the boy.  
  
Jim had gotten a good glimpse of Tornak's expression before he dragged Luis forward, and he had an idea why. The Romulan's eyes burned with an unnatural intensity. Illness or drug-induced madness--whichever it was, Tornak wasn't rational.  
  
That realization pulled Jim out of his stunned state. Though it had been mere seconds, he silently cursed his slow response. "Notify security!" he shouted to Melia's brother as he sprinted after Tornak.  
  
*  
  
_"We're now tracking the other Romulan life sign. He is about sixty meters from your position, bearing twelve degrees southeast, headed straight for you."  
  
_Ayala turned immediately in that direction, his hand resting on his phaser. The Romulan runabout was in his direct line of sight, some forty-five meters away.  
  
_"Tornak's vital signs are outside the normal range for Romulans. Blood pressure is below normal, temperature is several degrees higher than normal--"  
  
_Ayala listened to the first officer's report absently as he took several steps forward. He expected Tornak would be coming from behind the runabout any second.  
  
_"Captain, there is also a human life sign in close proximity to the Romulan life sign. That person is in physical contact with Tornak."  
  
_Ayala hand tightened on his phaser. He didn't know who might be with Tornak, but he had to anticipate any possibility. That person could be helping the ill Romulan return to the embassy, or it might be an unwilling companion.  
  
Tornak stumbled from behind the runabout, pushing a smaller figure next to him. They both looked up...  
  
Luis! Ayala pulled out his phaser as Captain Merves shouted, "Centurion Tornak! We know you're feeling ill. We have a cure that will--"  
  
"Stay away from me!"  
  
Ayala was already running toward the runabout, phaser in hand, but Tornak jumped back behind the small craft before he could focus his aim. He heard the sound of hydraulics and knew Tornak was opening the aft hatch. He wasn't about to let Tornak take Luis into the runabout!  
  
"Tornak, I order you to stop immediately!"  
  
If Tornak had heard Leral's command, he didn't respond. Ayala came abreast of the shuttle's bow just in time to see someone else run toward the back of the runabout. He heard a grunt and a responding shout, and came within view just as Jim Morrow received a hard kick to the chin from Tornak's booted foot. Jim fell to the ground, and Ayala fired a shot toward the aft hatch as Tornak disappeared inside. Ayala fired again while Jim struggled to his feet and slapped his hands on the aft control panel, frantically punching codes. The hatch door stopped, leaving a mere two centimeters or so of open space. Ayala aimed the phaser and shot low through it. A second later the hatch closed completely.  
  
However ill he might be, Tornak had overridden the manual hatch controls with alacrity and had forced Luis into the runabout with him.  
  
Ayala dropped his hand, his now useless phaser pointing toward the ground. He'd seen his son's face when Merves shouted to Tornak. Luis had looked dazed, his gaze more vacant than terrified. Ayala had brought his son here to get him away from his memories of Gorshet III, of the horrors no child should ever experience. He'd promised Luis a safe haven here, promised to protect him, and now--  
  
"We'll get him out, Michael."  
  
Ayala looked blankly at Jim, whose chin was bloody from the impact of Tornak's boot. Jim swiped ineffectually at his face, and wiped his hand on his shirt. Then he dropped to his hands and knees and crawled under the runabout, leaving Ayala staring after him in bewilderment.  
  
"I don't want Tornak getting that thing off the ground," Merves shouted to Harriman and three security officers who had just beamed down with her and were taking up positions surrounding the runabout.  
  
The captain's voice was like a splash of cold water in Ayala's face. He realized he'd completely lost focus on his job, terrified for his son even if his son wasn't terrified for himself.  
  
"Morrow!" Ayala barked, crouching down. Jim had already shimmied out of sight, no doubt headed for storage section access panel. Romulan runabouts were similar in design to the Federation version--copied from them, in fact. The chances of Jim opening that panel without Tornak's noticing and blasting Jim out of existence, if the Romulan's sanity was as tenuous as it seemed, were virtually nil.  
  
A hand fell on Ayala's shoulder, and he turned to face Merves. "Jim Morrow is trying to open the storage section panel."  
  
"A rash move, but Mister Morrow has always struck me as a man given to impulsive acts. We'll cover him as well as we can, but our first priority is Luis." The implacable look in Merves's eyes assured Ayala of that priority. "Commander Rees?"  
  
_"We're recalibrating Pioneer's transporters, sir. Give us one minute."  
  
_"No more," Merves responded sharply.  
  
Transporters on colony ships like _Pioneer_ didn't automatically recalibrate from open to closed space, or from signal to biosign detection. A minute seemed hideously long to Ayala. The low priority given to building a transporter station for the colony now seemed like a serious mistake in judgment.  
  
_"A second security team has been assembled in the crew transporter room."  
  
_Merves and Ayala remained tensely silent while the remaining seconds ticked by.  
  
*  
  
Tornak shoved Luis roughly into the copilot's chair before taking the pilot's seat. Luis remained immobile, only dimly aware of what was happening. His neck hurt where Tornak had squeezed him so tightly. He reached up instinctively to rub the area, his action slow, as if he was moving in a deep fog.  
  
_"Centurion Tornak, this is Subcommander Leral. Open the runabout main door immediately!"  
  
_"Never did like her," Tornak snarled. He pressed several controls, then reached under the console and produced a phaser. "Now she wants to help them destroy me! Like you do!"  
  
Luis flinched at Tornak's menacing growl and the feral look in his eyes. The fog dissipated, and cold terror washed through him. It was just like always. The Cardassian leader would appear soon, his yellow eyes gleaming coldly in the dim light, and someone would suffer. A beating, a rape, or an electrical shock from one of the stun sticks...  
  
The taste of bile rose in his throat, choking him. He needed to hide, to make himself as small as possible so he wouldn't be noticed. His eyes scanned the shuttle frantically, even while he shrank further into his seat. He had to get away before those cold, dry hands grabbed him, before he felt the searing jolt shoot through his limbs, the horrible jerk of his body as it spasmed, and he voided himself while the Cardassians stood over him and laughed.  
  
_No!_ Luis shut his eyes, and clenched his hands so tightly, his nails broke the skin on his palms. _No_. _No_ , _no,_ he chanted silently. _Forget about that!_ This wasn't Gorshet III. He wasn't helpless, and he wasn't alone. He'd seen Jim trying to grab Tornak's leg. And a phaser beam had cut through the hatch opening, barely missing Tornak's head.  
  
That had been his father! Luis was certain he'd spotted him, just before Tornak forced him back behind the runabout. And Captain Merves. They were out there now, with Jim. And Kajee, Angelo, Celes--everyone in the colony--they would help him. They wouldn't turn away and pretend not to see.  
  
_"Commander Leral to Subcommander Tornak. I suggest you answer me if you don't want to spend the rest of your career cleaning out warp manifolds with a nail file!"  
  
_Tornak shut off the comm with his fist. Sparks flew. He squinted and shook his head, as if trying to clear his vision. Rivulets of sweat ran down the Romulan's face as he tried to focus on the controls in front of him. Keeping a furtive eye on Tornak, Luis unclenched his hands slowly, barely noticing the sting of his palms. A strange sort of calm swept over him _. He wasn't alone, and he wasn't helpless_. And he wasn't afraid.  
  
Despite the situation, he felt a rush of exhilaration. _He wasn't afraid_. And he wasn't going to be afraid like that. Not ever again.  
  
*  
  
_"No lock, Captain. Tornak engaged the hull shielding before we could get him."  
  
_"Open that runabout door immediately, Tornak, or I'll have you gutted and your entrails fed to the canines!"  
  
Subcommander Leral's idle threats--at least Merves assumed they were idle--were clearly having no effect on Tornak. He turned to Ayala and Harriman. "Aim for the engines. Take out those shields." Ayala's quick nod and hand signal to the rest of the security team assured Merves he was fully in control, despite the fear for his son he couldn't quite hide.  
  
"You are not going to damage that runabout!"  
  
"We're going to do whatever it takes to get Luis Ayala out of there," Merves told Leral.  
  
"The Romulan Empire will not take responsibility for this incident. It is Starfleet who neglected to protect us and who allowed Centurion Tornak to become infected by the virus. It is the Federation who will be held accountable for his insane behavior, as well as the life of that boy."  
  
Merves was glad Ayala was too busy giving orders to his team to hear Leral. "That _boy_ will be fine--and so will you, as long as you _stay out of my way_."  
  
His unveiled threat startled Leral, and Merves took the opportunity to walk away. He heard Leral sputter, but he figured Administrator Glera could deal with the Romulan subcommander for a while. He focused his attention on the security teams’ efforts. Their phaser beams bounced off the hull shielding, showering flashes of light across the boundary of the force field. They would break through eventually, and Commander Rees would beam Tornak aboard _Pioneer.  
  
_Unless Jim Morrow got in first, that is, and either resolved the situation or, quite possibly, made it worse.  
  
*  
  
Tornak muttered several Romulan curses as he attempted to engage the engines. The low hum of phaser fire could be heard coming from outside. Tornak ignored it, but Luis listened intently. So intently, he heard another, fainter sound, like metal scraping against metal. It was coming from somewhere behind him. Luis started to turn slowly and look, but Tornak leapt up first.  
  
The metal sound grew slightly louder for a moment, and Tornak cursed. He aimed his phaser at Luis, waving it warningly. Luis tensed, not with fear, but with caution. He met Tornak's intimidating gaze and remained completely still.  
  
Satisfied, Tornak moved aft, muttering curses as he went. Luis rose as quietly as possible, keeping his attention on Tornak. The Romulan's attention was focused elsewhere. He took a careful step, looking around for a weapon.  
  
Tornak let out a triumphant shout, and Luis used the moment to grab a metal spanner that lay abandoned under the pilot's seat. He grabbed it quickly and spun around, expecting Tornak to have heard and turned on him. Instead, Tornak was aiming his phaser at the deck, behind the partition that separated the storage area from the main cabin. Luis knew there was an access panel in the storage deck plate back there somewhere--  
  
_"Rokh'tal!"  
  
_Whatever that word meant, Tornak was about to fire at someone trying to get into the storage area. Luis shouted and ran toward Tornak. The centurion turned toward Luis, bringing his phaser up, but his reaction time was slow. Luis barreled into him, swinging the spanner. It caught Tornak on the temple. The centurion fell backward, his phaser flying across the deck.  
  
Luis fell to his knees next to the crumpled figure. He raised the spanner again, ready to hit Tornak if he moved, ready to protect the rest of the prisoners, to keep them from being tortured just for the guards' sadistic pleasure...  
  
"Luis."  
  
Luis blinked. Jim had pulled himself halfway up through the hatch; his hard stare was intent, almost mesmerizing. Luis slowly lowered the spanner and looked down at the unconscious Romulan lying at his feet.  
  
"Let's call in the cavalry," Jim said as he pulled himself all the way onto the deck.  
  
"Tornak disabled the comm system." Luis set the spanner on the floor, a good distance from Tornak's unconscious body, just in case.  
  
"No problem." Jim strode to the front console and with a couple of taps deactivated the force field. "I think that will get the message across. Let's get out of here and leave Tornak to the doctors."  
  
Luis nodded and joined Jim at the main door. Jim pressed the door release and pushed Luis behind him as the door opened, walking out first. From behind Jim, Luis could see the array of phasers aimed in their direction, though they all were lowered almost immediately.  
  
"Luis and I are fine," Jim said. "Tornak is inside, unconscious."  
  
Two security officers passed by them, jumping into the runabout. Luis paid no attention to them, because following right behind was his father. He felt a gentle squeeze on his shoulder. He glanced back at Jim, who smiled and stepped away.  
  
"Luis. Are you okay?"  
  
Luis nodded. His throat felt tight, not from fear, but from relief and regret at his father's anxious expression. He had a sudden urge to hug his father, to hold on as tight as he could, but with effort, he suppressed it. He wasn't a little kid anymore. "I'm fine, Dad."  
  
His father crossed the small distance between them before Luis could even blink and engulfed him in a bear hug. Luis hugged him back, forgetting for a moment anything except that his father was here, holding him as if he would never let go. It felt as if it had always been that way. Maybe hugging was okay, even if you weren't a little kid.  
  
After his dad let him go, Lieutenant Harriman hugged him before she went into the runabout. While Captain Merves and Doctor T'Pren beamed to _Pioneer_ to deal with Tornak--who would be fine, Doctor T'Pren told the captain. That suited Luis, even if he hadn't liked Tornak _before_ he'd become sick and crazy. Kajee came running with Raul and Lajen. They all hugged him. When they walked back to their shelter soon after, Angelo and Celes were there, and they both hugged him. Then Doctor Tanaka and several others from the Sciences staff stopped by, and most of them hugged him.  
  
Later, several kids from his classes stopped by to see him, two or three at a time, and they all wanted to know about his adventure. Even K'Lerg, the surly Klingon boy from his geometry class, was impressed by the details. And several of the girls hugged him, including Isobel Mackenzie, maybe the smartest and prettiest girl on New Earth. No, _definitely_ the smartest and prettiest girl on New Earth. Luis felt like he was in a fog for quite a while after they left, but it was a pleasant, dreamy one.  
  
_Yep_ , Luis thought as he drifted off to sleep later that night, _hugging is actually pretty okay_.  
  
  
  



	5. Act Four (Day Four)

  
**Act Four (Day Four)  
  
 _Pioneer_ \-- _November 24, 2381, Stardate 57897.6_** _  
_  
Michael Ayala walked onto the bridge of _Pioneer._ After four days on New Earth, the ship already felt alien to him, as if it didn't belong to him--or he to it--anymore. He was just a visitor here now, which suited him. Commander Rees sat in the command chair. She acknowledged his presence with a smile and a wave of her hand toward the Ready Room. She was one of only three officers on the bridge, which seemed as cavernously empty as the rest of the ship now was.  
  
Michael mouthed a quick "thanks" to Rees and she went back to studying the data on her console while he strode to the Ready Room door. At the captain's invitation he entered and found Captain Merves, with coffee cup in hand, examining the dozen or so printouts spread across his desk.  
  
"Here is my report on the security incident yesterday," Michael said, though "incident" seemed a pale word to his mind.  
  
Merves accepted the proffered PADD, and waved toward a chair. "Have a seat."  
  
Michael sat, while Merves glanced at the report. "Captain, I owe you an apology for yesterday--"  
  
"You have nothing to apologize for, Michael," Merves interrupted. "You couldn't have foreseen what happened."  
  
"Maybe not, sir, but if I'd located Tornak more quickly, his actions would have been curtailed."  
  
"Unfortunately, putting locator collars on the Romulans wasn't an option," Merves said dryly. "Nor could we force them to wear their combadges. They're free citizens, after all."  
  
"Yes, but--"  
  
"Michael." Merves held up a hand. "In retrospect, there were several things we could have done differently, and certainly more effectively, had we been aware of Tornak's unstable condition. The only real error was the initial one that set all this in motion. And that appears to have been a case of a message misdirected to the wrong file in the computer database. It may be a cliché, but what matters is that all's well that ends well. Want something to drink?"  
  
It took Michael a second to react to Merves' non sequitur. "Uh, no, thanks."  
  
Merves nodded and took a sip of his coffee. "Speaking of well, Doctor T'Pren will be releasing Tornak this afternoon. He's fully recovered."  
  
"That's good news," Michael said. Though he knew Tornak hadn't been responsible for his actions, he still couldn't find it in his heart to care much about the Romulan centurion's well-being. But he was glad for Luis's sake. "That means he will be returning to New Earth?"  
  
"Actually, no. Leral has been ordered to return the runabout to _Pioneer's_ shuttlebay, where she and Tornak are to await Commander Prolak's return. It seems he was quite displeased when he learned about the incident."  
  
"That the Federation ultimately caused," Michael said. He wasn't sorry Tornak would remain on _Pioneer_ , but it seemed an odd response--though perhaps not for Romulans.  
  
"The Romulans are a different breed," Merves said, mirroring Michael's thoughts. "He was more put out by Tornak's inability to conquer the virus's effect and Leral's 'ineffective' leadership than by the vaccination oversight on our part. Apparently the concept of weakness, or of an inability to overcome an affliction without Federation assistance, is anathema to the Romulans. Or, to Prolak, anyway.  
  
"By the way, Prolak also told Captain Janeway that they would be leaving immediately upon his return to pursue their original mission. They'll leave their embassy office unstaffed but available for future use. I'm betting they won't ever take up actual residence."  
  
Whatever the Romulans' original plan _,_ Michael supposed Prolak must have obtained insight into the Federation's actual intentions here, just by tagging along on _Voyager_. "I have to admit I'm glad they won't be back on the surface." And that his son wouldn't see Tornak again, even though Luis was acting surprisingly sanguine about the whole thing.  
  
"So, how is Luis?" Merves asked.  
  
"He's fine," Michael said. "Better than fine, actually." He shook his head, still amazed by Luis's reaction. He'd been a little shaky directly afterwards, but an hour later it was as if nothing had happened. "I'd have done anything to prevent this, yet Luis seems to have come out of it more...confident in himself."  
  
Merves nodded. "He faced down his fear. He's realized it can't destroy him unless he lets it. Most people are a lot older when they figure that out, if they ever do. The price has been high, but what Luis has learned about himself will serve him well."  
  
Though Michael would always regret that Luis had been robbed of the secure childhood he'd deserved, he recognized the truth in Merves's words. He'd seen confirmation of it in his son's eyes last night. It was as if a veil had been lifted, and the real Luis, the happy, confident boy he'd left behind, had returned to him, now in the form of a young man.  
  
"I guess Morrow deserves part of the credit, since his presence was probably the impetus for Luis to act," Merves said. "Though if he were under my command, he'd still be cooling his heels in the brig right now for pulling that stunt."  
  
Michael's mouth quirked. "I'll tell him that."  
  
Merves smiled. "I doubt he'll care. Just as well he's no longer in Starfleet. He's got the independent-minded nature suited to colony life, if he takes this opportunity on New Earth seriously."  
  
"I think he just might," Michael said. Jim had been genuinely content last night, and not just because of Luis's safe return. Jim had seemed the most comfortable he'd ever been, even among friends--as if he really wanted to be where he was now.  
  
"That's good to hear," Merves said. He set the PADD on his desk. "I have several reports to finish before Captain Janeway's arrival. I'm eager to know more about her meetings with the Vidiians, and I know she'll also be eager to see what's been accomplished on New Earth so far."  
  
"I'll be happy to show her around," Michael said. He knew Captain Janeway, Chakotay, Tom and B'Elanna, Neelix, and the half-dozen others from the original _Voyager_ crew were eager to see the colony. He'd show them what they would be missing gallivanting around on a starship, even if they'd be coming back to New Earth from time to time.  
  
"I know you'll make the most of your opportunity on New Earth, Michael," Merves said. "But if you ever want your old job back, it will be here. Though I might have to fight Captain Janeway for you, in that case."  
  
"I appreciate the accolade," Michael said. "But I'm never going to be away from my family again. I'm afraid I'm a planet-bound man now, sir."  
  
Captain Merves nodded, his gaze understanding. "I'd say you're a lucky man, Mister Ayala."  
  
"Yes, I am," Michael agreed. "I really am."  
  
  
 ** _Day Four, New Earth (evening)_** _  
_  
"Fetch, Dobby!"  
  
The black lab puppy gamboled across the grass as he chased the stick Raul had thrown. When he reached it, he pounced at it with all his puppy might and rolled right past it, a black ball of fur and gangly legs sticking out everywhere. He quickly righted himself and turned back to the stick, yapping victoriously as he grabbed it with his sharp teeth. Then he settled down in the grass and began to chew it.  
  
"Dobby, when I say 'fetch' you're supposed to bring it back to me!"  
  
Jim patted Raul's shoulder. "He's young. He'll learn."  
  
"I guess he can just play with it right now," Raul said, while Dobby gnawed at the stick as if it was a steak bone. "Jim, you don't think his name is silly, do you?"  
  
"Nah. He looks like a Dobby to me."  
  
"It's a very good name, I think."  
  
Raul smiled broadly at his father, pleased by the praise. Michael sat beside Kajee on one side of the firepit, settled on a soft blanket she'd brought with her, while Celes and Angelo sat across from them. It was dusk on a warm summer evening where, on any planet in the galaxy, the best place to be was outside. The air was redolent of meadow grass, sea salt, and a myriad of foods recently cooked on barbecues and in open firepits. The breeze carried a welcome hint of coolness; and the argon glowlamps spaced throughout the colony site began to blink on, their warm yellow light spilling over the shelters and illuminating the first permanent structures around the Common square.  
  
Jim shared the edge of Celes and Angelo's blanket. He was pleasantly full from the Bajoran meal Kajee had prepared for everyone. For the time being, they were taking turns preparing the group meal. Once permanent housing was erected, many would make their meals in their own homes, from both fresh and replicated ingredients. Jim figured on enjoying the communal atmosphere for a while--perhaps throughout the summer.  
  
"I think I'll get a beer," Angelo said. "Anyone else want anything?"  
  
"You can bring me some hot tea," Celes said, and Angelo smiled at her as if he'd bring her not only the tea but anything else she might ever ask for.  
  
"I'm fine," Michael said, as Kajee also shook her head.  
  
"I'll take a coke," Jim said.  
  
"Just a coke?" Angelo asked, surprised.  
  
"Something wrong with that?"  
  
Angelo shook his head. "Can't stand that old drink myself, but if that's what you want."  
  
Angelo walked toward his shelter, giving Jim a searching look, then a brief smile. Jim sensed the others watching him and kept his gaze on Raul and Dobby. He didn't see any reason to voice what they were thinking. So he was giving up synthehol for a while. He just didn't have a taste for it right now.  
  
"Mom! I'm back!"  
  
Lajen was running, her regular mode of locomotion, with someone else trailing further behind her. "Tamil's dad made shish-ka-bobs for dinner. They were great! Tamil's coming over tomorrow night for dinner, if that's okay? Where's Angelo?"  
  
"I'm glad you had fun. That's fine. And Angelo is...hi, Neusha. Please join us."  
  
Jim had been listening to Kajee's remarkably facile response to her daughter's random conversation, but he turned to see that Neusha Patel was the person lagging behind Lajen.  
  
"Neusha!"  
  
"Hi, Angelo." Neusha smiled at him as he rejoined the group, handing Jim his coke. "I just brought the blueprints for the meeting hall's foundation, so you can check them before we start tomorrow morning."  
  
Angelo took the blueprints with his free hand and set them on the ground as he settled down again next to Celes. "Thanks. Sit down and join us. I was telling Michael a bit earlier about the community pool."  
  
"Which is a fine idea," Michael said. "But I think we need a good sport field first."  
  
Kajee patted the blanket beside her, and Neusha sat down, looking around the group with a quick smile of greeting. Her eyes met Jim's last. Her glance was cursory at best before she returned her attention to Michael.  
  
"We already have enough recruits to make up half a dozen soccer teams, and I've been hearing a lot of interest in baseball, too."  
  
"Baseball's a tired old game," Angelo said. "Soccer's okay, but we need some water polo teams."  
  
Michael shook his head. "I just never got the attraction of water polo. All that boring swimming back and forth."  
  
"Boring?" Angelo looked at Michael askance. "It's a fast, action-packed game. It's baseball where you spend ninety percent of your time standing around. Talk about boring."  
  
"Baseball is a classic sport," Michael said. "It's all about grace and finesse, not brute strength, like water polo."  
  
"I have to disagree with you, Michael," Neusha put in. "Water polo certainly takes strength and stamina, but there's a lot of grace involved too. I got through Mehran University on a water polo scholarship. We won the Pan-Asia Regional three times."  
  
"Aha, so you'd have a ringer on your team!" Michael accused Angelo.  
  
"Or on your team," Neusha told him, winking.  
  
"You should think about it, Michael," Jim said. He grinned slyly at Neusha. "We _are_ talking about a sport that involves sleek, body-hugging swimsuits versus a sport where the players wear loose jerseys and sharp cleats on their feet."  
  
Neusha raised a supercilious eyebrow, although there was a hint of amusement in her eyes. At least Jim thought he saw one. Neusha Patel had been one of the few who hadn't found his flirtatious manner charming on _Pioneer._ Quite the opposite in fact, though she didn't seem inclined to tell him off tonight.  
  
"Three to one against, Michael!" Angelo chortled triumphantly.  
  
"I'm thinking this colony can accommodate several sports," Kajee said. "Maybe water polo _and_ baseball."  
  
"Water polo? Does someone actually like that sport?"  
  
Angelo rolled his eyes as Melia Gend approached. "Quit making fun of water polo!"  
  
Melia laughed at his exaggerated protest. "Sorry. Stann and I are just taking a walk, letting everyone know that there's going to be a party in the Common tomorrow night to officially commemorate the founding of the New Earth colony."  
  
Stann stood a bit behind Melia and smiled shyly at the group. Though he'd been on _Pioneer_ for months, he still had an air of timidity about him. Jim had decided it was just his natural disposition.  
  
"It sounds like fun," Michael said. "Should we bring anything?"  
  
"I don't think so. We haven't figured out all the details yet--okay, we haven't figured out _any_ of the details--" she flashed a wry smile "--but we'll let you know more in the morning."  
  
"I'm afraid it will be on dirt," Celes said. "We won't have the landscaping ready to set down for another couple of days."  
  
"I'm sure we'll manage," Kajee said. "If you need help putting everything together, I'll be happy to contribute, Melia."  
  
"As will I," Neusha said.  
  
Melia looked grateful. She looked like she was going to respond, but Celes spoke first. "Stann, we heard your good news. We're so happy for you."  
  
Stann looked flustered. "Thank you," he said. "It is...an unusual situation. But nothing that has happened recently has been usual."  
  
"Well, it's wonderful," Angelo said as Stann's voice faded a bit. "We're all looking forward to the arrival of your little ones. And we'll be happy to help any way we can."  
  
"Thank you again," Stann said. "It will be another week before Doctor Ibrahim is ready to begin the procedure. But in a few of your months the babies will arrive, and I'm sure I will need much help. I don't know yet if I will be a good father."  
  
"Of course you will," Michael said. "We all wonder that at first. It's natural for you to be nervous, but when you hold your babies in your arms, all those doubts will disappear, believe me. Right, Angelo?"  
  
Angelo grinned. "I hope so." He looked at Stann. "I'm going to be a father also." He put his arm around his wife. "Celes and I will be having a baby in about six months, according to Dr. Ibrahim."  
  
Stann's face broke into as big a smile as Jim had seen from the little guy. "But that is wonderful!"  
  
"We think so too," Angelo said. His expression was beatific, as it had been all night, ever since he and Celes had revealed their news just before dinner.  
  
"Our babies will be raised together," Stann said, then immediately looked distressed, as if he'd uttered a faux pas. "I mean, if that is all right with you."  
  
"Absolutely," Angelo said. "And before you know it, there will be other babies coming along. It's one of those things we humans do well."  
  
Celes elbowed her husband in the side, only slightly puncturing his self-satisfied grin. Stann looked pleased too, and Jim noticed for the first time that the little guy's color was...well, it was gray, but a more shimmery, vibrant silvery-gray, as if he was glowing with health.  
  
Jim realized with a start that Stann was _happy_. Like Celes, he was radiating a definite glow of contentment. At least for the moment--and probably for longer periods as time went by--he could think of something besides the devastating loss he'd experienced.  
  
"We've got to spread more invitations around," Melia said, putting a gentle hand on one of Stann's arms. "We'll see you tomorrow. Congratulations, Celes, Angelo."  
  
Dobby chose that moment to bound into the middle of the group, yapping sharply. Stann jumped, startled, then remained perfectly still as Dobby sniffed him.  
  
"It's okay, Stann," Raul said. "He likes you."  
  
Stann nodded, not looking too certain. "He, er, seems to be a fine animal, Raul."  
  
"He is," Raul said. "He loves to play, but when he gets big I'll teach him to protect your babies if anything ever tries to hurt them."  
  
Dobby was chasing his tail at the moment, giving zero impression of fierce protectiveness, but Stann looked touched. He patted Raul gently on the shoulder. "Thank you."  
  
"I hope I'm not interrupting anything," a warm voice said, and Dobby bounded straight for the newcomer.  
  
Kimanji Zaji, dressed in robe of bright oranges and tawny yellows and browns, greeted everyone, including Melia and Stann just before they departed. She smiled indulgently at Dobby as he sniffed her robe, then looked at Jim. "I know it may be a bit early, but I am wondering if you're taking commissions yet."  
  
Jim's brow furrowed. "Commissions?"  
  
"Yes. For the wall murals you're going to be painting. I hear your designs are quite distinctive. I'd love to have one for the archeologist's Common Room."  
  
There was total and utter silence when Kimanji finished speaking. Jim could hear the clicking noise of the stick insects nearby and laughter somewhere in the distance. He could also feel everyone's eyes on him. If he looked, he knew most of their mouths would be hanging open.  
  
"Paint?" Michael's voice was bemused. "You _paint,_ Jim?"  
  
"It's--it was a hobby," Jim said. "I really haven't painted in quite a while." A long while. Not since those early days on the _Equinox,_ before the ship had been flung into the Delta Quadrant. He rarely thought about it anymore--no, that wasn't true. He thought of it occasionally, but only as part of his "before" life. Before _Equinox,_ and everything that came after.  
  
"Angelo?"  
  
Celes put a hand on Angelo's arm. He was staring at Jim, his eyes wide, as if he'd come to an amazing realization. "I'd forgotten," he said. "I'd _completely_ forgotten."  
  
"Forgotten what?" Celes asked, sounding vaguely alarmed.  
  
"The mural, in your quarters, Jim," Angelo said. He looked at Celes. "Jim painted it during the first month we were on _Equinox._ He wanted something to counteract the 'Starfleet drab.' And it did. It was amazing, with all these swirls of color and light..." He turned to Jim again. "It was such beautiful work. I don't know how I could have forgotten so completely."  
  
Jim shrugged. "I guess we all forgot a lot of things, later. And since my first quarters were rendered uninhabitable pretty early on, along with half the ship, it's not so surprising."  
  
"I see my request was premature."  
  
Jim had almost forgotten Kimanji's presence, but now he looked at her curiously. "How did you know..."  
  
Kimanji glanced at Raul, who was now holding Dobby. Raul gave Jim a wan smile. "Remember, that morning you said you'd paint a mural in my bedroom when we got to New Earth?"  
  
Jim vaguely remembered that morning. He'd been half-asleep after staying out very late in the aft lounge the night before. Raul had been chattering about his art class. Jim had said something about painting murals once upon a time, and it had gone from there. It had seemed a throwaway conversation at the time. "I said 'maybe.' And I said it was between you and me."  
  
Raul looked sheepish. "I forgot. I'm sorry." He bent his head and hugged the wriggling Dobby. "But when adults say 'maybe,' it always means 'yes.'"  
  
There were several chuckles at Raul's slightly defiant addendum, though Michael gave him a reproving look. "Jim, I'll talk to you about this later," Kimanji said. Her lips twitched. "Unless you want to give me a 'maybe' too."  
  
"Maybe," Jim said softly. "I _will_ think about it, Kimanji."  
  
"Good enough," Kimanji said. "Goodnight all."  
  
Jim watched Kimanji stride away, her robe flowing regally behind her, wondering if he really was thinking about painting again. Mentioning his past work to Raul had been a spontaneous response--or maybe it hadn't been. But it had been such a long time since he'd even thought about it...  
  
"Hmm. So there are actual depths to you, are there, Morrow?" Neusha asked dryly.  
  
Jim met her curious gaze and gave her a roguish smile. "Depends on how far you're willing to dig."  
  
"Excuse me."  
  
 _It's like the Starfleet Command Central Transport Station here tonigh_ t, Jim thought, though with no rancor, as two young boys approached. They looked solemnly at Michael. "Hello, Mister Ayala. Is Luis here?"  
  
Luis, as if on cue, popped his head out of the Ayala shelter. He'd gone inside after dinner, but Jim had the feeling he'd been seeking the privacy a normal teenager craved rather than hiding out. Now he walked over to greet the boys. "Hi, Tiran. Hi, Dirk."  
  
"Hey, Luis," the taller, blond boy said. "Do you want to come down to the bluff? We're having a bonfire."  
  
Luis glanced at his father. "Who's down there?" Michael asked the two boys.  
  
"There's a bunch of people on the beach, Mister Ayala. The Mackenzies are there, and Tiran's family, too. They can see us up on the bluff."  
  
Jim didn't miss how Luis's eyes lit up at the name Mackenzie. Michael glanced at Kajee, who nodded. "I guess it's fine then," Michael said. "Behave yourselves. And be home by eleven, Luis."  
  
Luis rolled his eyes. "Dad..."  
  
"Eleven."  
  
Luis shrugged, and the two boys gave him commiserating smiles. The things you had to do to keep the parents happy. "Fine," Luis said. "See ya later."  
  
"Can I go?" Raul asked.  
  
Luis looked at his father beseechingly. "Stay here tonight, Raul," Michael said. "Dobby needs you. He's still getting used to us."  
  
Dobby was chewing voraciously on one of Lajen's sandals he'd dragged out of the shelter earlier, plenty comfortable with his new family; but Raul took the hint. He and Lajen took turns trying to wrestle the sandal away from Dobby while Luis and his friends jogged happily toward the beach.  
  
"Look," Celes said shortly. "The fireflies are coming out."  
  
The 'fireflies' were tiny insects that, like the fireflies of Earth, lit up through phosphorescence. They were especially active in the early evening hours. While the fireflies of Earth flitted about in individual, random movements, these insects flew together in a synchronized manner, in a sort of choreographed group dance.  
  
"It's amazing, the way they stay in such perfect formation," Angelo said.  
  
"It's like they're painting the sky," Jim murmured as several dozen of them swept to and fro in shimmering pinpoints of light, like brushstrokes across a canvas.  
  
Dobby suddenly began to jump at the insects, yapping and trying to catch those intriguing specks of light in his mouth. They were out of his reach, but the noise was enough to send them racing away, to dance somewhere else.  
  
Much later, after Neusha had departed--glancing back once at Jim with that curious gaze, as if she was trying to figure him out--and everyone else had gone inside, the fireflies returned. Jim watched them from the doorway of his shelter. He looked at the stars, too. Their formations were unfamiliar as of yet, but he could see _Pioneer_ shining bright and steady in its stationary orbit right above the colony. He looked across the colony site, where the glowlamps had been dimmed to half-illumination. It was so quiet, the only sounds those of nature: trees rustling in the breeze, insect chirps and clicks, a distant monkey call...oh, and the occasional bark of a dog. No hum of engines, beeping of monitors, rumble of machinery, or whine of transporters. None of the trappings of extensive and ever-present technology.  
  
Oh, they would be here, but in the background. This was to be his life now, one quite a bit simpler than he'd experienced growing up in the Alpha Quadrant, and later, in Starfleet. Simpler, but more basic, more true, at least for him. For the first time since _Equinox_ had been flung into the Delta Quadrant--ironically, back in the very same Delta Quadrant--he felt a sense of complete and utter peace. It was as if he'd finally found the place he belonged, or perhaps he'd just found himself again.  
  
Jim took a final, satisfied look at his surroundings. He was sorry to leave the peaceful setting, but he knew he would see it again tomorrow night, and many nights to follow. He stood up and stepped into his tiny shelter. It was time to write a letter that was long overdue.  
  



	6. Epilogue

  
** Epilogue **   
  


Stardate 57897.5 Datastream queue, personal letter n17.  
From: Jim Morrow, New Earth, Delta Quadrant  
To: Noah Lessing, Luna City, Sol System  
Routing: DQ Sec837--AQ Sec1 Rn554334.9Dj  
  
 _Hi, Noah,_  
  
 _It was great to hear from you. It always is. I'm glad things are going so well with the flower shop, and that you've been able to spend a lot of time with Hannah. She's a really sweet kid._  
  
 _Thanks for keeping me updated on the latest from the Alpha Quadrant. I can't quite say "from home." I haven't felt like I've had one of those for a long time, except for a brief time on_ Voyager _. Since then it's like I've been drifting with the galactic winds, seeing where they will take me and never getting anywhere. But I think I might finally have found a real home here. Or I'm about to make one here, if I put in some effort. It's about time I did that, I suppose. (Wait! I can hear your shout of triumph from 45,000 light years away!)_  
  
 _I'm glad to hear Marla is staying in touch with you. I didn't agree with her choice, but if she's found a sense of peace, then good for her. I don't know if Harry read her letter. I haven't had much contact with the other ships during the journey. If they have a future, I have to believe it will work itself out. Hopefully Harry will understand that Marla has to be happy with herself first before she could be happy with him._  
  
 _Speaking of happy, I don't know if Angelo has written you yet (right, we both know Angelo is almost as slow as I am at writing letters), but he and Celes are doing great. Before dinner tonight they told us they're expecting a baby. Yep, it's true! And they aren't the only ones. Get this: I know Angelo told you about Distor Stann, the fellow whose home planet was destroyed by that Cyclops machine? Well, it turns out his children will be the first born on New Earth, followed closely by the Tessoni baby._  
  
 _I'm sure you're wondering how this could be. I'll skip the details on that until next time. (Gives you something to look forward to!) Anyway, you can probably tell that it's going pretty good here for everyone. Oh, there's been a glitch or two, like the Romulan centurion who abducted Luis Ayala. (That worked out fine, and Luis is doing really well!) For the most part though, New Earth is even better than anyone imagined. I think we'll all be happy here. Even me. I think I deserve it._  
  
 _I know that's a surprise to hear. It's taken me this long to believe that I do. I was furious about Marla being made to feel like an outcast, and about the way Celes's family was treating Angelo. I told you to accept the good things you have in your life now because you've paid dearly enough for them. I seethed at the idea that people would treat any of you as less than the decent people you are, just because you made mistakes under unbelievable pressure. Serious mistakes, I know, but you were only human. Yet, for some reason, I couldn't apply any of that philosophy to myself._  
  
 _So, you were right after all, but no saying 'I told you so'! I'm going to apply that philosophy to myself now. At least I'm going to try. I'll keep you updated on my progress. I promise I won't wait two months to write this time._  
  
 _Still no word from Sofin? I didn't expect there would be. I honestly don't think we'll ever hear from him again. I hope he's found a new life somewhere where he can pretend it all never happened. We're just a reminder that it did. I can understand that, but I'm glad the rest of us have stayed in touch._  
  
 _Speaking of staying in touch, write back soon. Tell me how you're doing, and how Hannah's doing. Give my love to Marla when you talk to her, and tell her I'd like to write her, too (you can forward the letter). And you take care of yourself, Noah._

  
_From New Earth, starting my new life, for real,_

  
_Jim._   
  


THE END...and the beginning.

**Author's Note:**

>  **Up Next: "The Green Hills of New Earth," by Christina, Penny, and jamelia.** The Ocampa are finally moving to New Earth, but nothing is easy in the Delta Quadrant. An old foe, an arrogant diplomat, and a murder investigation that reveals the truth about a planet's history all come into play as the colonists of New Earth begin a new chapter in the history of the Delta Quadrant.


End file.
